


Capricious As Thunderclouds Above Us

by Cadensaurus (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Equestrian, Horseback Riding, M/M, but in the past tho, dan howell is a sad man because of reasons, dressage, phil lester is an accidental ray of sunshine who helps him heal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cadensaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillip means "a lover of horses". So one day, not knowing that Phil's rather terrified of horses, his friend asks him to go riding with him. Of course Phil would get the horse that spooks during the ride, leading him to fall directly in front of their trail guide, a very cute, very sarcastic guy named Dan. </p><p>Given, of course, that Phil is terrified of horses and wants nothing more to ever do with them again, after Dan's made sure that Phil's okay, helped Phil back on the horse, and gets them back to the stables, he proceeds to ask Phil if Phil would like a private lesson for the next time he goes horseback riding, and panicked and flustered by Dan's cuteness, Phil ends up agreeing.</p><p>He finds out soon enough that Dan is more than just a trail guide, that he has a lot more talent than Phil could ever have suspected, and soon the tables are turning when Phil starts encouraging Dan to re-examine his old dream of riding dressage, having left the show scene a few years back. </p><p>(or the one where Phil falls in love with horses and finds out what a capriole, one-times, and half-passes are, and Dan just falls in love for the first time and learns to trust again)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hokay so i rode horses from the time I was about 7 to 15 and then stopped - tho im trying to get back into it - so pls don't kill me when my memory of equestrian life is kind of crap but seriously just thinking about dan in a fancy formal equestrian outfit on a dancing horse is basically the prettiest thing ever right?? (also come on tell me dan would not wear these boots if he was riding horses practicality be damned http://tinyurl.com/ovvxrwo)

So it isn't really Luke's fault that he doesn't know that Phil is quite frankly, terrified of horses. He just wants to do something nice with his friend and so when Phil gets a message saying, _Hey, Phil, wanna do something together? It's a surprise though! Show up at this address tomorrow_ , Phil figures, sure, why not, he hasn't seen Luke in a while and he doesn't really expect it to be horse-back riding, and he doesn't bother Googling the address.

So when he realises that the cab is, in fact, pulling up to a stable, Phil's heart does speed up. Okay, so he's not terrified of horses in the sense of they give him nightmares and he runs away screaming if he sees them, but they're so big and strong and he knows someone who's infertile due to being kicked by a horse in a very sensitive spot and so he's scared of them in the sense that he'd prefer to stay fertile and not trampled.

It's too late to back out now, though, and so he pays the cab driver, seeing Luke standing outside the stable, and Phil walks over to him, already starting to regret this.

“Hi,” Luke says, waving and meeting Phil halfway there. “You ready?” He gives Phil a once-over. “Oh – maybe I should have given you a bit of warning, um, your clothes...”

Phil glances at his outfit. He's wearing shorts and a t-shirt and trainers, what's wrong with it? It's casual and comfortable.

“I'm sure it'll be fine,” Luke amends. “Come on, the guide's been waiting for about ten minutes since I got here and the horses are tacked up.”

Phil follows Luke into the stable where there's a long hallway of stalls, horses poking their noses out between metal bars and snorting, letting out low whickering noises, the sound of hay shifting and dust everywhere and it gets in his nose and he sneezes.

He blinks twice and wonders if he's going to blink his contact out, as it swims on his eyeball, vision blurring, and he's squinting up at the rafters of the barn and it finally settles and when he focuses in front of him, he finds himself being stared at.

Not by Luke, however, but by a guy who is actually taller than him by a few centimetres, who has brown hair that falls across his face in a style similar to Phil's, except reversed, fringe a bit shorter and rich brown eyes that are peering at Phil as if wondering if Phil's actually okay.

He's also really cute and Phil immediately goes red under his gaze. Once this guy has seemed to assess that Phil's not having a stroke or something in the barn, he turns to Luke.

“This is your friend you were waiting on?” He asks. Luke nods. “Okay, well. The weather's looking a bit crappy so we might want to head out in case it starts raining – catch as good of a time as we can.”

He's brief with his words, not mean, but just almost impatient. “Okay, Luke, you'll be riding Blue here,” and he steps into a stall and emerges with a horse that is, in fact, almost a shade of blue. “Named after the color, obviously. Blue is a blue roan Percheron-Thoroughbred mix, which might mean something if you know anything about horses,” and he says it dryly, sarcastically.

“He's seventeen so he's getting on in years and is really nice and laid back. He's also really short compared to the average size of Percherons and Thoroughbreds. You'd think he'd be seventeen hands but no, he's only about fifteen hands tall.” He leads Blue out of the stable and ties him off to a post, then returns.

Phil wishes he understood even half of that. He also wishes he gets a nice, laid-back horse who is even shorter than Blue, because Blue seems plenty big to him, and stocky.

“Meanwhile, you, um. What's your name?” Their guide turns to Phil.

“Oh, I'm, uh, I'm Phil.” Phil's so nervous that his northern accent comes out thick and heavy and he almost cringes at it. He hasn't sounded that northern in years.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Dan, by the way, and I'll be your trail guide. You're going to be on Rocket.”

That name sounds a lot more intimidating than Blue. Dan leads out his horse who is definitely smaller, slimmer. “This is Rocket. She's an ex-barrel racer and she's a Quarab, which is a mix of a Quarter-Horse and Arabian and sometimes Paint horses. She's skipped the Paint part so she's also on the smaller side, just over thirteen hands.”

Phil carefully reaches out to pat her nose and she whuffles, lip turning up slightly, sniffing him. She seems friendly enough. She's all brown with a black mane and tail and a white stripe down her face.

“Hi, Rocket,” he says nervously. He's tall enough that he's going to look ridiculous riding her and he comments on that nervously.

“Yeah, if I'd known you were so big I'd have put you on Pokey. He's literally our oldest horse here and also our tallest. But he's even more gentle than Blue. He's really named Cavalier but seeing as he doesn't go faster than a trot by anyone but the most advanced riders, we call him Pokey.” Dan says. Again, his entire commentary is like it's making fun of the stable in a way.

“Well, um, I can wait – if you want to get him ready.” Phil says. Then he looks at how big Blue is. “Actually, you know what, I'll look ridiculous.”

“You know, we should get going,” Dan tells him. “It's not good for horses to just be tied up in their bridles – normally I'd wait to put the bridles on and they've been waiting for a bit as it was while we waited for you.” He grabs two black velvet-capped helmets. “Put these on.”

So Phil silences himself, strapping the helmet onto his head, and Dan helps Luke into the saddle, showing him how to hold the reins. Luke tells Dan that he's had a few lessons in his life so he's not a total beginner and so that seems to settle Dan slightly, letting Luke wait on Blue as he leads Rocket outside and Phil follows.

“Okay, so, your outfit. It's going to be a little uncomfortable, I'm gonna guess. Chafing might be an issue.” Phil glances at his legs and then at the leather saddle and realises why Luke was side-eyeing him. “Also, your shoes – you should really be wearing something with a heel like mine or Luke's.”

Phil's seen fancy equestrian outfits, jodhpurs and tall boots that come high on the leg and he glances down at Dan's shoes and then Luke's. Luke is wearing high top boots that actually have a pretty decent heel to them, laces strapped up, and Dan is wearing boots that manage to look both hipster and yet, well, equestrian at the same time.

They're black leather, with straps wrapping all around them, silver buckles decorating the top and bottom of the leg, with his black breeches tucked into them where they come to about a quarter of the way up his calf.

“Alright, stand like this,” Phil feels Dan guide him so that he's standing somewhat parallel to Rocket. “Lift your left foot and place it in the left stirrup,” and Phil's not sure he's quite that bendy, which means Dan ends up helping him, “Okay, alright, we're gonna do it a little differently, put your foot in my hand and on the count of three, we're going to swing you up and you'll find the stirrup and then sit in the saddle and you should probably take care to not land on your balls, just to be perfectly honest,” and just how does he manage to look so point-blank and pull off that snarky tone without actually being deprecating?

“Okay, one, two, three, and lift!” Dan says and he pushes Phil upwards and Phil grabs at the saddle and clutches a handful of the horse's mane and is going in the air and then his foot hits the stirrup and he shoves his foot for it and Dan's helping guide his foot in but then he's coming down from the boost he's been given and oh hell- _christ_ he did exactly what Dan warned him against.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his breath rolls out of him in a solid grunt and pain swims through his stomach. “Right, did what I warned you about,” Dan notes. “You learn not to do that more than once if you can help it when you're a male rider,” he adds.

 _No shit,_ Phil thinks. His right foot swings about for a second as he manages to gather his brains back together and then connects with his other stirrup and slides that one in. Rocket shifts under him and he tightens his grip on her mane before loosening it, not wanting to hurt her, releasing and shaking the hair free, saying, “Sorry, sorry, Rocket.”

Dan looks at him. “How much do you actually know about horses, just wondering?”

“Um. They're big, they like grass and hay and carrots, and I'm actually really afraid of them.” Phil admits.

“O-kay.” Dan nods. “Well, first lesson besides don't hit your jewels. While some people like to say there's no nerves in a horse's mane, that's not true. They have nerves. But it doesn't really hurt them if you hold it tightly like that. So, you know, if you feel more secure, feel free to just go ahead and get a hunk of hair there.”

He gathers up the reins, which have slid down Rocket's neck, and shows Phil how to thread them between his fingers. “Okay, so, let them rest there,” he places them between Phil's pinky and ring fingers, “and then use your thumb to hold them steady here, against your index finger. Then the excess will just hang down here.”

He takes a step back and then a second later starts laughing a little. “Okay, I'm sorry to laugh at you, Phil, but you really do look hilarious, being so tall on Rocket's short frame, in your outfit.”

Phil offers a weak smile in return, completely uncomfortable with what he's about to do. “Just wait here for one quick minute while I get my horse and I'll be right back. He's already tacked up and waiting, so it won't be long.”

Phil stays completely frozen in the saddle, afraid to move, and thankfully the worst Rocket does is shift and turn her head a little, taking one small half-step to the right as she changes her weight underneath him.

Dan emerges from the barn momentarily later with a beautiful horse – even Phil can tell when a horse is attractive. “This would be my horse, Capricious Coeur.” He says the French word vaguely eloquently. “I didn't pick the name, by the way. He's a seven-year-old Dutch Warmblood/Hanoverian cross with his grandsire being a Paint, giving him this fancy colouring. I bought him from a very spoiled, rich girl who had no idea how to handle him. She's the one who gave him the fancy name.”

The horse is slender and tall and mostly dark brown with patches of white on his left foreleg and right hindquarter, along with a streak in his tail, with a black mane. “Capricious is a very accurate name for this horse, by the way. He likes to test his riders and make sure you're paying attention. So the girl had no idea how accurate her name would be. I can read his moods though – we get on pretty well most of the time.” Dan adds.

He mounts up a hell of a lot more gracefully than Phil did, lifting his leg and springing into the saddle, picking up the reins. “So, we're probably going to be just walking today. Maybe if you feel comfortable, we'll try a jog, not even a trot.” He says before he mounts up.

Watching Dan in the saddle is a hell of a lot different from watching Dan out of it. In the saddle, Dan is relaxed and easy and even as his horse side-steps as Dan mounts, Dan goes with the movement and lands just as easily as can be. “Sorry, Cap, you're gonna have to work harder than that to throw me today,” and his voice is full of affection as he reaches forward to pat his horse's neck.

He sits straight and shoulders back and Phil hadn't even noticed before Dan mounted that Dan's posture off a horse is a little crap to be honest, leaning against posts or shoulders slumped forwards slightly. His fingers are soft, not even moving the reins as he does something to get Capricious Coeur – Cap, as he's apparently called – to start walking without ever actually seeming to signal him.

“Just squeeze your legs to the sides of their legs and they'll follow me, they know the drill,” Dan calls over his shoulder. “Behind the stable is a forest and a park and we're going to be going through there for a bit until the weather decides to piss on us. Use your matching hand to gently – _gently_ ,” he emphasises, “guide your horse's head towards where you want him to go. Left means left, right means right.”

Phil's afraid of squeezing too hard and making his horse start running so he very gently turns Rocket's head to the right, following the path that Dan's starting them on and Blue, in front of them, starts walking and when after a moment Rocket doesn't move, Phil risks tightening his legs just slightly and Rocket steps forward and while Phil feels unsteady, he doesn't feel like he's going to fall off from this.

He is never agreeing to anything Luke suggests without knowing exactly what it is first though. Dan takes them on a well-trodden path, dirt stomped down by innumerous horse feet, and they amble through branches that hang overhead.

Once Phil's starting to relax, he actually looks around him. It's pretty. Scenic. The leaves rustle in the wind.

Dan talks off and on as they go, talking about the weather, about the horses' moods, about nothing in particular, just doing his part as a guide to entertain them somewhat.

Things are going relatively well. Phil's even feeling comfortable enough at a walk to let his frozen grip on the reins loosen and his form relax slightly and that actually helps, as his hips can shift with the movement of Rocket underneath him.

Dan glances back at them and examines Phil. “You're getting it,” he says. “See, it's not that bad, right?”

“Guess not,” Phil answers. The ground still seems pretty high up but not as foreboding as it did fifteen minutes ago. They reach the park, which is apparently a private park for equestrians only, small enough that circling it isn't going to take more than fifteen more minutes at an ambling walk, and they can branch out so that they're walking not in a line but in a row, Dan slowing his horse so that he's next to Phil.

“So, um. What's a Percheron?” Phil asks. “Or a Hanoverian?”

Dan smiles. “Breeds of horses. Percherons are big draught horses and I mean, I'm guessing you know what a Thoroughbred is. Both breeds are usually pretty tall so Blue being a runt is kind of weird. He should have been like, seventeen hands probably.”

“Yeah, um. Hands? What's that about?” Phil asks. He cautiously reaches forward to pat Rocket's neck the way he'd seen Dan do to Cap, not letting his actual grip on how he's holding the reins shift at all, and it ends up being a closed-fist pat, gentle enough.

“Oh, it's an old unit of measurement. A hand is four inches and we measure them where they come up to here,” and Dan gestures on Cap, shifting his reins to one hand and tapping an area just below the neck, above his foreleg. “The withers. So if a horse is sixty inches tall, he'd be fifteen hands high. If he was sixty-two inches, we say they're fifteen point two hands. Once he'd hit sixty-four inches, then he's sixteen hands. Make sense?”

He recollects his reins and Phil nods. “Hanoverian is another breed?” Phil asks.

“Yeah, a Hanoverian is a warmblood breed. Percherons are coldblood. Your horse, Rocket, is part hotblood, as is Blue, though you'd never know it if you went by Blue's temperament.”

Phil lifts an eyebrow. “Okay, I know almost nothing about horses but I know they're not reptiles so you wanna run that cold-blood bit past me?”

Dan grins. For as sarcastic as he is, he loses some of it when he's talking about horses. He really seems to love them. “Yeah, it comes from their supposed temperament and what they're used for. Coldbloods are usually the big, stocky draught horses that were used for doing heavy work. Hotbloods are breeds that are known for things like racing and being fast and flighty. Warmbloods are what happens when you cross them. Obviously their actual blood isn't different temperatures.”

“So a Dutch Warmblood is an actual breed of horse?” Phil asks. “And you've got a mix?”

Dan nods. “Yeah, even though I only use him for pleasure riding, Cap here was originally going to be a dressage horse.” His expression flickers here to something dark, almost angry, or maybe bitter. “Both Dutch Warmbloods and Hanoverians make excellent dressage horses. However, he's got a bit of Paint in him – another breed – which gives him his splashy colouring.”

“Paints are used for?” Phil asks. Dan shrugs.

“Oh, Paints are used for a lot of stuff. See, Paints were bred more for colour than a particular focus in equestrian riding so they get mixed into a lot of breeds when people don't mind not having pureblood. They were originally used for a lot of Western riding, doing things like barrel racing and herding cattle, but now that they're infiltrating other breeds, you'll see a lot of breeds with Paint blood in them doing show jumping, dressage, and even some racing. Though that last bit's not nearly as common thanks to the purity of Thoroughbred blood being so focused on.”

“What's dressage?” Phil asks. Dan goes silent for a long second and then looks away, up at the sky, where the clouds are getting thicker and darker.

“Just another discipline,” Dan says after a long moment. He tries to keep his voice light but it's obvious enough that he doesn't want to actually talk about it so Phil drops it.

He is, however, paying attention to the way that Dan's fringe peeks out from under his helmet and ruffles slightly in the breeze and Phil says, “What's your favorite breed of horse?” to try and change the topic, to make Dan's eyes light up again just slightly as he talks.

“Oh, I couldn't pick. I love all sorts of horses,” Dan tells him honestly. “Um, for show-jumping, you can't really beat a good warmblood but you can have almost any breed do show-jumping, but then you've got Thoroughbred racing and Quarter-Horses – which is what you've got a part-cross of, like I mentioned, who do things like barrel racing and quarter-mile racing,”

“Ah, hence the name?” Phil asks and Dan nods at him, smiling, showing off just enough teeth that he actually looks relaxed and happy and Phil's somehow happy he got Dan to look that way.

“I'm not a huge fan of bronc riding, to be honest, because it involves a lot of teaching a horse to intentionally start bucking his rider off and just in my opinion causes undue stress on the horse, but that's a thing,” Dan mutters. “Again, you want to see heavy pulling, go get a draught horse. Try a Shire or a Brabant, those things are huge – not just tall but pure muscle – and if you want something fast and lithe and speedy and with endurance to boot, get an Arabian. There's a reason a lot of horse breeds get crossed with Arabs, they've got endurance like you wouldn't believe.”

Phil's actually trying to store this information into his brain. Dan's got a lovely voice, soft and articulate, and he's obviously well-informed. Dan continues on without even pausing.

“Then you've got breeds like Tennessee Walkers, who are bred specifically for their running walk, which is a type of gait, which it's hard to explain but if you look up a video, you can see how they move. Paso Finos, same thing, and there's a breed of horse that does something called the “tolt”, so you see some breeds that actually are bred just for how they move, not what they can do.”

Here Dan trails off. Phil doesn't want him to stop talking. He wants to keep looking at Dan not sarcastic or looking bored and so he asks, “How long have you been riding?”

Dan thinks about it. “Well, I'm twenty-four now. I started when I was four, so, well, basically my entire life. I took a break for about a year when I was twenty, but now I'm back.” His face sharpens when he mentions taking a break. Phil doesn't push that either.

He's run out of questions to ask and so he's not paying as much attention as he should be, not paying attention to the fact that his reins have gone slack and he's not really sitting as securely in his saddle, kind of slouched, in fact.

Dan slows Cap enough to drop behind Phil and then cross over to Luke, who's all the way on the left, and ask him how he's doing, and Phil hears a cracking noise as a branch shifts and then a bird flutters into view, flies directly in the face of Rocket, who snorts and proceeds to take off, jerking forward into a faster gait, and the reins get tugged from Phil's hands and he clutches at her mane desperately, even as Dan calls, “Hey, shit, wait!”

And Phil finds out exactly what barrel-racing must be when she comes to a tall thick, metal post while he's clinging onto her and he can feel her entire body curving around it in a tight action, except Phil's body doesn't exactly go with her, Phil's body goes sliding sideways and then out of the saddle and he's lost the stirrups and he's in free-fall and then he hits the ground with a solid thump and his breath gets knocked out of him, he genuinely can't breathe, it hurts so much, and he feels numb, head spinning.

He can hear Dan calling, “Whoa, ho now,” and Phil manages to curl forward just enough to peer out of one cracked eye and see Dan riding alongside Rocket, who is still running, reaching over to grab her reins dangling, leaning out of Cap's saddle, tugging Rocket to a stop and then glancing back at Phil.

“Luke, come here,” Dan calls and Luke, looking surprised and a little scared on Phil's behalf, urges Blue over to Dan. “Okay, hold Rocket while I make sure Phil's alright.”

Dan sends Cap into a faster pace over to Phil, coming to a stop and swinging out of the saddle. “First question, can you move your toes and hands and neck?”

Phil's managed to get a bit of his breath back. “I'm not paralysed, don't worry.” He sits up. “And I don't think anything else is broken.” His entire body is shaking, he finds, literally from head to toe, and when Dan reaches down to help him up, Phil's legs wobble and he can barely stand.

“Okay, so you're presumably not going to sue the stable,” Dan cracks a joke and Phil does manage to smile there. Dan runs his hand over Phil's shoulders and arms and eyes him over. “You don't have any visible injuries. Come on, walk with me back to Rocket and I'll make her apologise.”

Phil wants nothing to do with Rocket. He wants to avoid the horse and walk all the way back on his own. But Dan is already heading over, Cap following him as Dan holds his reins, and Phil shakily follows Dan.

When he gets to Rocket, she's got her ears half-pinned, flicking about, glancing around her, and Phil's not entirely sure he wants an apology, whatever that might be, from her.

Dan reaches up and touches her nose, rubbing his hand over it. “It's okay, Rocket. I know, stupid birds,” and she pricks her ears forward at his touch and voice, and he talks to her soothingly.

Just to make the day better, the sky chooses that moment to start to rain on them and Dan, unflinching, continues on with his conversation. “And now it's raining, which I'm sure you totally wanted to get rained on today, right, girl?”

She's quieted down and stilled now and Dan looks at Phil. “Come give her a pat on the nose so she knows you're not mad at her.”

“I kind of am mad at her,” Phil says quietly. “She made me fall.”

“Not her fault that she got spooked, though. She just reacted with her base instincts. She didn't mean to harm you, she was trying to protect herself.” Dan reminds him and Phil takes the final few steps forward and reaches up to touch her nose which is smooth like silk, the skin there.

Dan catches his wrist and guides it to the side of her face, where it's soft and her hair lies flat, and Phil pats awkwardly. She snorts once and then kind of leans and settles her face against his palm and lets out a long breath.

“See, she's sorry,” Dan tells him. “And she won't do it again. I'm going to make sure – I'm riding beside you the entire way back.”

He doesn't sound unkind but Phil feels like an idiot anyways. He's such a terrible rider that he's fallen off his first time and now their guide has to ride with him to make sure that he doesn't fall again. This is just great.

“Okay, let's get you back in the saddle.” Dan says. Phil's legs turn back to jelly and he shivers. “Come on, Phil, I promise you that you're not going to fall. Besides, every rider needs to get back up in the saddle after they fall so long as they're not injured. It's the only way to keep from getting stuck where you're at, afraid to move forward.”

Phil doesn't exactly like that theory because it might end with “unless you fall again,” but he does as Dan says, positioning himself like he was originally, and Dan nods, lifts his hands into a step for Phil, and Phil puts his foot in, lets Dan heft him up, and this time, he's able to come down a little differently and not crush his testicles.

“See, you're already learning,” Dan tells him. “Didn't hurt yourself this time,” and he pats Phil's knee. He smiles at Phil and that loosens Phil's stomach because Dan's smile is genuinely kind, trying to put Phil at ease, encouraging him, and Dan's got a smile like sunshine when he actually means it, as opposed to the half-smile he gives when he's being sarcastic and dry.

“Have you fallen?” Phil asks Dan. Dan actually starts laughing now.

“More times than I could count on all my fingers and toes. More when I was younger and didn't know what I was doing. Or trying to show off a couple of times. Learned the hard way not to try and go jumping fences that were a foot taller than I was used to. Landed right on my arse, fractured my wrist on that time. Couldn't ride for almost three months and I was so angry at myself for that fact that I never tried to over-extend myself again.”

Somehow, it makes Phil feel better that Dan's fallen, Dan's taken a major tumble.

“Maybe, though, next time, we won't put you on the ex-barrel racer. I mean, it's completely incidental that when she spooked, she was right near something vaguely barrel-shaped and basically went into old habits, but still. Next time, you get Pokey.”

“I, uh. I don't think there's going to be a next time, Dan,” Phil assures him. “I was pretty scared to begin with of horses and now I think I'm even more terrified of them.”

Dan gives him a slow look that's unreadable and Phil shifts under his stare until Dan finally turns away and swings back up onto Cap's back. “Well, either way, let's get heading back. The weather's gone to crap and I don't think any of us want to be riding in the rain.”

They walk the entire way and true to his word, even though nothing happens, Dan stays right by Phil's side. Phil, on his end, keeps a handful of mane clutched in both hands, between the reins, and his legs are firmly locked against Rocket's side.

“Don't squeeze too tight now, Phil, or she'll gallop off with you.” Dan tells him gently and Phil relaxes his legs just a fraction.

“Was she galloping when I fell?”

“Nah, she was cantering. That's a pace below, still kind of fast though, especially for a beginner, definitely for a first-timer. Though the canter is pretty easy to ride once you're a little more experienced.” Dan tells him.

Luke's been relatively quiet through this entire escapade, although he does keep asking if Phil's alright, and Phil keeps reassuring him that aside from a few bruises to his back and his pride, he's going to be fine.

When they come around a bend and Phil sees the stable, he feels relief flood through him and he can't wait until he can dismount, which turns out to be a lot easier than getting up, letting his feet fall out of the stirrups and then swinging his right leg over and dropping down.

Though he does land a little funky and his ankle throbs and maybe he should see if he got any leg injuries he didn't initially realise from the fall later on.

There's a young woman inside named Laura that Dan asks to take Blue and Rocket to their stalls and untack them and give them a brief grooming and he'll take care of Cap in a few minutes, as he slides the headgear that Cap's wearing off and a different kind on, clipping two ties from either side of the walls to it so Cap can't walk off.

“I am so sorry,” Luke apologises to Phil as Dan sees to the horses being put away. “I had no idea you'd fall. I had no idea you were scared of horses. I wouldn't have suggested this if I'd known.”

Phil gives him a wry almost-smile. “It's okay. I mean, I'm never going near a horse again if I can help it, but you meant well. We can hang out somewhere else. Maybe get dinner or something. You know, keep our feet on the ground.”

“Maybe you can get dinner with Dan,” Luke tells him, giving Phil a knowing smile. “You definitely had your eye on him a few times.”

“Shut up,” Phil hisses, as Dan is within distance of hearing them possibly. He most certainly does not want Dan to know that he, the idiot who fell flat on his arse in front of him and made a fool of himself and insulted what Dan clearly loves by saying he's terrified of horses and wants nothing to do with them, knowing that he's attracted to Dan.

“Just saying,” Luke whistles a little and Cap's ears prick forward at the nose and he takes a step forward, pulling at the ties. “Hey, look at that, I'm the horse whisperer, I can talk to horses.” Luke crosses over to Cap and carefully rubs his nose.

Phil stays right where he is. He's quite happy not going anywhere near a horse if he can help it.

“Look, I'm gonna take off, I'll text you later. We can arrange for a better meet-up in a bit,” Luke tells him. Phil wants to get going too but he wants to apologise to Dan again for making him have to pretty much baby-sit Phil all the way back and so he waits until Dan, who was talking to Laura, steps away and looks over at Phil.

Phil kind of smiles awkwardly and Dan gives him a strange look. Phil can only imagine what Dan's thinking. _What does this weirdo want from me?_ is probably accurate enough.

Then Dan gestures him over with a crooked finger as he steps in to Cap and starts undoing buckles for the saddle, lifting it off, and Phil doesn't really want to go near a horse but he walks over slowly, staying as far back as he can, leaning against a stall. “Yeah?” Phil asks.

“You sure you're alright? Shake your limbs out a little again, make sure everything's in working order?” Dan asks. He removes a thin pad from Cap's back, where there's a faint darkening of the skin there, an outline of where the pad was, and he sets them down on a block of wood off to the side.

Phil obliges him and then jumps a minute later when something warm and soft and a little bristly brushes his ear, holding back a shout as he twists around to find the nose of the horse in the stall behind him investigating the motion outside.

Dan snorts at Phil, holding back a laugh. “Say hi to Sally. She's one of our class horses for beginners. She's a sweetie-pie. She won't hurt you – here, hang on.” He ducks under Cap's neck and disappears into a room full of saddles and pads and around the corner, coming back with a carrot, cracking it in half. “Here, give it to her, like this.”

He demonstrates with Cap, holding his hand flat, his half of the carrot in his palm, and Cap lips it up happily, crunching. Phil holds out a hand that only shakes slightly at her mouth touching his hand, and her gums flap forward and he can see big teeth and thinks how much those would hurt to get bitten by, and then the carrot's gone and she's stepping back in her stall, chewing it.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Dan asks. “You just had a bad first time and you should never let a first time be your only time if it's bad. Come on, I'll give you a private lesson sometime later this week. Completely free. We won't do anything but walk around in a circle in the arena and we'll get you comfortable and I'll teach you a bit about horses so you're not as inexperienced and maybe you won't be so afraid of them.”

Phil goes to say, “Thanks, but no thanks.” As he's opening his mouth, Dan tilts his head just slightly and looks at him with an expression of curiosity and just a touch of kindness, and his brown eyes are amazing and he's got just the faintest dimple when he smiles encouragingly, and Phil hears his mouth, acting without listening to his brain, say, “Um, well, alright.”

“Good!” Dan says, clapping Phil's shoulder. “Alright, I have to go groom Cap and put him back in his stall and then I have to go exercise a couple horses and teach a lesson, so I kind of have to get a move on. But, um, Friday – I've got a couple free hours starting at two. How about you come back here then and we'll have a quick thirty or forty minute lesson?”

Forty minutes does not sound quick. But he can't back out now and Phil nods, already regretting his non-decision made by his traitorous mouth. He's starting to feel sore and stiff from the fall and so he calls the cab company, deciding that he'll just sit on one of the benches outside until it gets there.

Far away from the horses. That sounds like a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil works basically helping run and format an internet website. It's a news and video website, with articles ranging from political, topical pieces to pieces that are meant to be silly and taken as out of context as one might want. He writes for it and edits some of the video footage, making good use of his degrees.

He much prefers doing the editing of the articles and videos – he doesn't think he's as good a writer as he could be. But it lets him set his own hours, basically, and so when Friday rolls around, he does as much work as he can before he has to leave.

He's still stiff and sore from his tumble earlier that week and while he's pretty sure his ankle isn't sprained, he's still very hesitant about getting near a horse again.

But Dan's words echo in his head. _Besides, every rider needs to get back up in the saddle after they fall so long as they're not injured. It's the only way to keep from getting stuck where you're at, afraid to move forward._

That last bit is true, Phil supposes. He remembers his first day working for the company he does work for. It's small, with only about ten employees, and it was a lot freer than he'd expected, and he spent the entire day wondering what he doing and if he was doing it right and it had taken him almost a month before he'd started to relax a little, thinking that if he hadn't been told he was doing a bad job yet, he was doing fine.

Thankfully, they seem to have appreciated what he's brought to the company and so now Phil's completely comfortable with it after a couple of years under his belt.

So he heads out to the stable, arriving there at about ten minutes to two. He heads inside slowly and peers down the aisle and doesn't see Dan. To his left is an aisle that leads to another row of stalls and to his right, he walks all the way across, is an indoor arena that appears to, if you keep walking down the corridor, leads to more aisles that way as well.

Inside the arena is a group of four riders, all of them appearing to be under the age of ten probably, and there's Dan, wearing a black t-shirt covered in sawdust and bits of hay, the same black breeches (or maybe he just owns multiple pairs – Phil suspects that's probably more likely), and his weirdly hipster but fitting black heeled boots.

“Alright, Megan, keep your heels down, but you look good otherwise. Emma, tighten up those reins or you're gonna have a wild pony on your hands. Drake, very nice form, you're improving, Angela, sit a beat, you're posting to the wrong beat,” and Phil wonders what that means, but a second later Dan calls, “Good, good, now you're on the right beat, feel the difference?”

He's just watching the four riders go in a circle around Dan and Dan spots Phil, lifting his hand in a brief wave. “Okay, guys, just slow to a walk, I have another lesson I have to get ready for so I'm going to have Laura come close out the lesson.”

Dan crosses over to where Phil is at. “This is the under-twelve beginners class. I think Drake's gonna be moving onto intermediate soon, though. He's only been riding for a few weeks but he's getting good very quickly.”

“Oh. Well, good for Drake. I'm glad to hear he's got natural talent. It's always good to have that?” Phil almost asks in response, not sure how to respond.

“Yeah, he does have a lot of that. It makes me kind of wish he'd started riding when he was younger to see how far he might have come by this point.”

“What level were you at when you were twelve?” Phil asks, curiously. “If you started riding when you were four?”

“I had private lessons, one-on-one, all my life, so I never really had a level I was in. But I was probably closer to intermediate-advanced,” Dan says. “By the time I was fifteen, I was definitely advanced and starting to focus on – you know what, never mind. Let's get you to your horse,” he cuts himself off.

He'd been talking and that strange, sharp, dark look had crossed over his face briefly and Phil doesn't want to know what it is, so he just follows Dan back to the main aisle of horses where Dan finds Laura and lets her know about the class and she heads off towards the arena.

“Okay, so, the left and right aisles are privately owned horses. The back half of this is the same thing. But the first half of this aisle is all lesson horses. Your horse is over here, come on. Remember I mentioned Pokey?”

Phil follows Dan to see a big reddish-brown horse, who looks old. He's got that look that animals get when they're older, his coat seeming almost ragged, thin mane, bleary eyes, and he sniffs Phil and when Dan reaches down to a large square of hay perched in the aisle and offers him a handful of it, his lips pull back to show yellow teeth, worn-down.

“Pokey is also a draught horse. But don't let his big size make you afraid, you're more likely to get run over by a car than have Pokey do anything besides walk or trot. He's lazy.” Dan rubs Pokey's nose affectionately as he speaks. “Lazy slug.”

Pokey snorts at Dan. “Pokey's a Suffolk Punch.”

Phil hesitates and then throws out, “Isn't that a boxing move?”

Dan chuckles. “Yeah, definitely. Give them the old one-two Suffolk Punch.” He agrees. Phil wonders if Dan might not be straight. That was Phil's attempt at flirting and he wonders if Dan was flirting back or just being nice and playing along.

“Okay so, here's his halter hanging on the stall door.” Dan pauses. “Are you planning on having more lessons after this, just wondering?”

“Probably not.” Phil admits. “I only came back because you said it wasn't a good idea to let your first time be a bad time. I figured you were right, I should try again. But I don't really like horses.”

“Well, what's your experience with them outside of that trail ride?” Dan asks. “I asked, by the way, because if you were going to come back, I'd show you how to halter-tie and groom Pokey and tack him up but you can just stand back and watch.” Dan explains.

He slides the halter over Pokey's face, settling it around his nose and making sure it's not too tight or loose as he buckles it behind his ear, leading Pokey out and bringing him to the front of the aisle, where there's the first round of ties on either side of the stalls. He only clips Pokey with one.

“This way, after the lesson ends, the kids can walk their horses past us and go to their stalls.” Dan explains. He ducks into the same room he got the carrot from last time, where there's tack, and comes back with a bucket full of brushes.

He doesn't bother explaining what he's doing to Phil, quickly sweeping one of the brushes over Pokey's neck and shoulders – withers, Phil remembers from Dan explaining the height measurement – and across his back and down his flank, then goes into the room again and Phil notices that each wooden peg that the tack rests on has a tiny golden circle glued to it and as he follows Dan, he sees the one Dan's reaching for reads “Pokey”.

There's a thick purple pad and the saddle and reins hanging from it and Dan gathers it all up and brings it out, placing it on a hay bale.

He tacks up Pokey quickly, fingers knowing just where to buckle or tighten, and he seems to hesitate when he's doing the strap that goes under Pokey's stomach. He glances back at Phil, a wry smile on his face.

“Breathe, you damned beast. I know you're holding your breath but you're not going to get away with it.”

Phil furrows his brows and Dan explains. “Some horses hold their breath when you tighten the girth. They let it out when you're done and then they've got a nice loose strap and your saddle goes sliding while you're riding and you're on the ground again. Pokey's one of those horses.”

A second later, Phil does see the horse's sides deflate and Dan tightens the girth a bit more and buckles it, then grabs the bridle. He undoes the halter, wrapping his arm around Pokey's neck, holding the reins in place, and carefully guides the metal bar on the front of the bridle into Pokey's mouth, placing straps over ears and checking the buckles there.

“Okay, so Pokey's ready to go – ah, hey guys,” Dan interrupts himself as the kids start to file out of the arena and down the aisle. “Just go around us, have a good rest of your day, I get to teach a total newb,” and Megan giggles at that as Dan pretends to roll his eyes.

“Gotta make kids smile,” Dan says quietly as she passes them with her horse. “I don't really like adults that much but kids still have that innocence about them, they love things without shame, so I'm not going to take out my anti-social personality on them.”

Phil wonders if Dan really does not like having to teach a total “newb”, in his own words. If Dan's honestly bored by Phil and doesn't care one way or another beyond not letting Phil have a bad experience with a horse.

He realises he never answered Dan's question about his experience with horses, which is literally he's never been on a horse before or near one beyond seeing them in paddocks as his parents drove past, and Dan didn't push him on it and comes to the conclusion that Dan probably doesn't care about him at all. So he just stays quiet and follows Dan as Dan leads Pokey to the arena.

“Okay, so Pokey's taller than Rocket and you weren't very flexible that time so we can either have me boost you or you can use the mounting block over there. It's a lot easier to use the mounting block, to be honest.”

“Yeah, uh, that works,” Phil answers. He crosses over and climbs up the small wooden platform pressed against the wall and waits until Dan brings Pokey over to him, holding him by the nose.

“Okay, so you're gonna just mount up like I showed you last time except reverse – now your right leg's going to go in and you'll swing your left leg over,” Dan says. Phil places his foot in the stirrup. His legs are already jelly again, nervous that he's going to fall like last time.

He grabs the hunk of mane and the reins and manages to get in the saddle with more dignity than the first time he'd ever attempted it, both feet finding the stirrups quickly. He puts the reins in his hand like Dan had shown him the first time and Dan nods approvingly.

“Okay, so you didn't forget that. That's a good start,” Dan tells him. “Okay, well, I didn't actually bother having you pay attention to your form because it was a trail ride but let's get you seated better.”

Phil didn't know there was a specific way one had to sit in the saddle. He just always thought you got into it and went.

“Okay, first off, heels down,” Dan catches Phil's foot. “Still got trainers on, I see.”

“I don't really own any heeled shoes besides a pair of dress shoes,” Phil explains.

“Okay. Well, heels go down. That way your foot doesn't get caught in the stirrup. Bend your leg just slightly here,” and Dan touches Phil's kneecap. “Okay, sit up straight, but don't sit stiffly, you want your hips to move with the horse's movements.”

Phil sits up a little more straight, because he'd been crouched forward, still holding the hunk of mane.

“Alright, feel free to hang onto Pokey's mane if it helps, but I promise you that he's not gonna take off like Rocket did. Hold your hands just above the saddle, here,” Dan motions, “with your thumbs angled towards each other.” He demonstrates with invisible reins in his own hands and Phil tries to match Dan's positioning.

“Okay, good. Always look where you want the horse to go, which is usually going to be straight in front of you. Otherwise, I guarantee you will drag your reins and your horse will start turning sideways on you.” Dan tells him. “Now that you're seated like a proper equestrian, let's get started. Tap your heels against Pokey's sides.”

“I thought you said squeeze my calves last time?” Phil asks curiously.

“Yeah, that would work for most horses,” Dan says dryly. “Pokey needs a bit more encouragement.” So Phil kind of taps his heels and Pokey doesn't respond, so he does it a bit more firmly and Pokey steps forward.

“Okay, you're just going to walk in circles and I'm going to talk to you until you get comfortable on his back for a while.” Dan tells him. “At least I can talk to you about things that aren't children's television or family pets.”

Phil bites back a grin at that. “Do you only teach children?”

“I only teach beginners,” Dan tells him. “Which means, yeah, usually children.” He walks with Phil, whereas before he'd been standing in the center of the arena as his students rode around him.

Phil doesn't know if he's trying to keep Phil relaxed by being near Phil or if he just wants to be able to talk without shouting but he doesn't mind having Dan walk next to him.

“So any major bruising from your fall?” Dan asks and Phil shakes his head.

“No, just plenty sore. I didn't fracture my wrist though, so I think I'm coming out ahead on this one.” Phil says. He's trying to flirt again, lightly, to see if Dan responds, to get a feel for Dan. “By the way, I never mentioned it, but I really like your boots.”

Dan grins brightly. “They are awesome, aren't they? They're ladies boots but I don't really care, they look good on me and I like them.”

“I would not have guessed those are ladies boots. They're like, androgynous boots, aren't they?” Phil asks in return. Dan glances down at his feet again and shrugs.

“Who knows? I think they just come off not as ladies boots because I'm so tall they don't actually go halfway up my calves like they're supposed to,” Dan explains.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Phil says. He's coming to a corner and Dan reaches up and automatically catches his left rein and brings Pokey's head with him, guiding Phil into the turn.

“Heels down,” Dan reminds him and Phil readjusts his seat, making sure his calves are still bent slightly where Dan had wanted them. He hadn't noticed he was relaxing and his feet were sliding out of place.

“So what do you do when you're not busy falling off horses?” Dan asks.

“Well, I work for a company that runs an online news magazine. They've got articles and videos and I've got a degree in Language and Linguistics and another in Video Post-Production, so I do write and I also edit videos for them.”

“Oh? What's the name of it?” Dan asks.

“The Internet Takeover?” Phil says. “It's not a hugely known thing, but it pays the bills.”

“Gonna walk a little faster, get Pokey at a quicker pace, alright?” Dan asks and when Phil nods, he extends his stride, catching Pokey by the bridle near his nose, and while initially Pokey stretches out and seems to refuse to speed up, he finally gives in and his own stride quickens and Phil can feel his hips swinging slightly faster as he shifts in the saddle from side to side.

“You know, outside of horseback riding, I absolutely hate exercise,” Dan comments.

“Oh, I'm with you on that. I'm so out of shape it's probably embarrassing. If a murderer busted into my flat, I'd probably make it all of ten steps and have to stop to pant for air and he'd just come up behind me and stab me in the back,” Phil agrees.

“Have you got locks on your doors?” Dan teases him. “Those are usually effective against murderers.”

“I did say busted into my flat. I've got locks but maybe he'd, I don't know, use his knife to break in.” Phil answers.

“If he used the knife to break the locks, I think the locks would be more like to break the knife tip and then it wouldn't be much use for stabbing, so you'd probably be able to assault him with something heavy and call the police,” Dan replies back. “Watch your hands,” he reaches up and guides Phil's wrists closer together, where they were loosening and coming apart.

They talk casually for a couple more minutes, Dan inquiring about Phil going to school for his degrees and Phil opens up to him because if Dan's going to show signs of interest, he'll happily tell Dan whatever he'd like to hear about.

At one point, Drake comes by the arena and waves goodbye to Dan and Dan abandons Phil for a minute to jog over and talk to Drake, who points at Phil and asks a question, to which Dan chuckles a little, looking embarrassed or awkward, and shakes his head no.

Phil focuses, while Dan does that, on readjusting his seat. He checks his heels – down – and calves – bent slightly – and hips – loose and swaying with Pokey's stride – and his hands – close together and curved inwards slightly – and his spine is straight and he actually thinks this is the best posture he's had in years.

When Dan comes back, he nods approvingly. “Nice,” he tells Phil. “Got yourself all back together, did you?”

Phil probably shouldn't feel this much pride over Dan's commenting that he can manage to sit on a horse nicely. But Dan's got such a nice smile when he does give an honest smile, instead of his constant sardonic one, and his eyes are such a lovely shade of brown, and so Phil just stays quiet.

“Well, want to try something a little more exciting? We've been walking in a circle for about ten minutes now, and you look pretty comfortable. Did you want to try something really exciting?”

“Like what?” Phil asks. His northern accent slips out and he thinks he sounds rather idiotic at that moment.

“Well, the best you're going to get from Pokey is a jog, so would you like to try picking up the pace?”

Phil's not so sure he wants to go faster than a walk. He feels like he'll just end up falling off again and he voices as much to Dan.

“Nope, not gonna fall off at a jog. One, you're going to be prepared for him to start moving faster. Two, a jog is basically just kind of the horse shuffling a little faster than a walk but not fully trotting yet. It's actually pretty easy to sit. You're just gonna kind of bounce on Pokey's back. You can hold on to his mane if that makes you feel secure and, three, I'm going to keep my hand on your thigh so if I feel you starting to slide, I can grab your shirt and hold you up.” Dan tells Phil.

Phil's still not sure, even with that reassurance, and Dan doesn't push it when Phil says no, that he's still a little nervous.

So they just walk in circles and Phil feels even more stupid for saying no, because now all he can think about is the kids who go to a carnival and sit on a pony for the pony rides and go in circles at a walk and how he's no better than those kids, who have no reason to be scared and probably would love to go at a jog, and Dan's probably thinking he can't believe he offered to coach someone so afraid of horses that he won't even try a jog.

So as Dan is telling him about coaching the under-twelve beginner's class and that he's been doing it for about a year now, after finding work at this stable, Phil interrupts him.

“Um, Dan,” he asks, and Dan looks up at him, holding Pokey's reins. “If you want, we can try a jog.”

There's actual delight in Dan's eyes. “Relaxing a bit more?” He asks. Phil shakes his head quickly.

“I'm blind-terrified. But I don't want you thinking I'm some scaredy-cat.” Phil tells him. “I'm a 28-year-old man who won't even try to jog, I figure you must be thinking, well, I don't know what, but probably nothing nice.”

Dan seems to take pause there. “I promise I was not thinking anything negative about you for not wanting to jog. But if you're sure.”

Phil gathers up a handful of mane and nods. “I guess whenever you're ready.”

“Well, make sure you're ready, Phil. You're going to relax a little, let your weight settle towards the base of your spine, and tap Pokey's sides again and I'll start jogging and he'll follow. Just don't freak out and you'll do fine, I promise.”

Phil tries to stay relaxed. Dan's hand comes up to rest on his thigh and he tenses up automatically at that and Dan notices, though he doesn't know that it's more because he's touching Phil than it is Phil being scared of jogging, and he pats Phil's thigh. “Relax, I said. Not tense up.”

Phil taps his heels into Pokey's sides and Dan starts to walk faster, then breaks into his own jog and Pokey snorts, takes a couple faster steps, and then his gait changes underneath Phil and it's sort of an ambling, bumpy sort of movement, but Phil's not going to fall, he knows that immediately.

He's being jolted around a bit, bum coming out of the saddle a little with each step that Pokey takes, but he's not going to fall. He loosens his grip on Pokey's mane and instead focuses on his form, making sure his hands aren't just flapping about as he bounces on Pokey's back or his feet flopping into Pokey's ribs.

Dan's cheeks flush as he jogs and a little spot of pink appears over the tiny mark he has on one cheek, a dark freckle of sorts. Phil kind of thinks it's adorable. Dan's hair falls into his eyes and he lifts one hand to brush it away and Phil doesn't even realise that it's the hand that was on his thigh for a second until he looks down and Dan's stepping away from Pokey, giving Pokey his head back.

Phil panics. Before, Dan had a grip on Pokey and his hand on Phil's thigh and Pokey was under control. Now, Phil's the one controlling Pokey and he has no idea how to control a horse really to begin with and Dan's throwing him out on his own and he's going to fall again, he knows it, and there's a corner coming up, Phil pulls slightly on the left rein and Pokey turns, and Phil doesn't fall, his heart starts to slow, and he realises that he just panicked over nothing.

Dan's watching, half-walking to keep facing Phil, staying within a couple arms length of Phil, but letting Phil on his own. “Not so bad, is it?” He calls to Phil.

“Not so bad,” Phil agrees, voice bouncing too as Pokey jogs along. Pokey's snorting with every stride he takes, sounding indignant that he has to actually put in effort here, and it's making Phil want to laugh. “I don't think Pokey likes it,” he says.

“Pokey never likes doing any work. That's what makes him such a terrible and great horse at the same time. For beginners, they're assured they won't fall off him. Then, the minute they actually reach a level where they're able to do more than walk or jog, you start to hate him a little because he just won't budge. But then he's great to prove that you're ready for advanced classes because you actually can prove to me that you _can_ coax him to canter. Seriously, I think I've seen the oaf canter twice in the entire year I've been here,” Dan says, rolling his eyes, offering up that smile that's as dry as the autumn leaves outside.

“Okay, wanna slow down now. My bum's starting to hurt,” Phil announces.

“Okay, just pull back a bit on the reins. Won't have to do much work, Pokey's going to happily stop jogging, trust me.” Dan tells Phil, motioning with his hands, and Phil retracts the reins a bit, bringing his fingers in towards himself.

Pokey slows to a walk within two strides and Phil is grateful for the bumping to be over.

“So, how was it?” Dan asks. “Your first time at a jog?”

“Kind of fun,” Phil has to admit. “Once I figured out that I wasn't going to fall. Thanks for just stepping back and abandoning me in the middle of that, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, never trust me.” Dan says wryly. “I'll tell you that I'll help you out and then throw you headfirst in the second I see you're getting the hang of it. You'll have to go it on your own at some point anyways, might as well be sooner than later.”

“I think I'd trust you quite a lot,” Phil says. “You haven't let me fall off and you've been rather nice to me.”

Dan blinks and actually stops walking at that for a second. He offers Phil a smile a second later. “Nah, don't trust me,” he affirms but the way he says it, it doesn't have the same, witty ring to it as most of what Dan says. He almost sounds serious at the heart of it. “I mean, I don't trust me half the time. But that's another story for another day,” he adds.

There, again, the shifting of his features to something dark and troubled for a fleeting moment. “Let's turn and go in the opposite direction for a bit and then we'll get you out of the saddle and you can get going and head out of here. I'm sure you're getting bored with just going in circles at the walk.”

Phil's not so scared anymore and he suggests, “We could always make Pokey jog again. See if he'll do it twice in one lesson.” Flirting witticism. Dan doesn't take the bait and Phil decides that Dan is either not interested or just very straight and not picking up on Phil's flirting. So he decides to stop trying with that angle.

“I think you'd make a good instructor,” Dan says. “I mean, for something you know about. I'd trust you, I think. You seem like the kind of person who never fails to keep their word, no matter what. Okay, to turn Pokey, just pull in the left rein and hold it until you're turned around and then release him, obviously, then guide him back to the wall with the right rein.”

Phil does as Dan says and Dan circles around with him and Phil reaches up to rub Pokey's neck, risking loosening his reins. “You're a nicer horse than I expected,” Phil tells Pokey. Pokey's neck drops down and he whuffles and bobs his head as they go along until Phil pulls back with the reins and brings his head back up.

Something about the last bit of their conversation seems to have made Dan go all quiet, as he's not keeping up the conversation and instead he just walks with Phil, in circles, for a few more minutes.

“Want to try jogging again?” Dan finally asks after a long period of silence has hung between them.

“Yeah, alright,” and Phil, knowing what to expect this time, adjusts his seat so that he's comfortable and Dan doesn't even reach up to help him, just steps back and says, “Go on, then, when you're ready.”

Dan's not lying when he says once he thinks Phil's got the hang of things he's just going to throw him in headlong with no help. But Phil taps his heels into Pokey's sides until Pokey snorts at him and then shambles into his lazy jog, bouncing Phil again.

“Good, keep an eye on your heels, don't let your hands wave about, even though you're staying relaxed, don't slouch,” Dan calls to him, and everything that Phil was getting comfortable with at the walk disappears when he's jogging and he's back to square one.

So Phil guides Pokey around the arena a couple of times at the jog, with Dan helping him keep his posture decent, and Phil notices a clock hanging on the wall that he hadn't noticed, because he hadn't been staring anywhere but directly in front of him or at Pokey's neck and his hands.

It's already been forty minutes since he got here and he tells Dan as much, voice jagging up and down in pitch as he passes by Dan on Pokey's back.

“Yup, was gonna suggest we wind things up pretty soon,” Dan says. Phil pulls Pokey back down to a walk. “Just let him stretch out his head a little. He didn't really work much today, so he doesn't need much of a cool down, but let him have his head anyways.”

Phil takes that to mean 'relax your grip on the reins' so he rests his hands further forward towards Pokey's withers and Pokey shakes out his mane and head and drops it towards the ground again, jolting Phil, but he catches his balance quickly.

“See? Got your seat, got your balance in the saddle, you're doing better already,” Dan says. “Not so bad when you're in control, right?”

Phil doesn't even feel bad admitting he was wrong. He genuinely enjoyed himself, especially after they jogged for the first time. It was all in his head that he was afraid. Pokey was never going to bolt like Rocket did. Pokey just wanted to go in circles like he's been trained to do and get back to a walk as soon as he could.

A gust of wind comes blowing through the open barn doors down the way and sends a bunch of leaves scattering up, and Phil hears the distant rumble of thunder.

“Sounds like a storm,” he comments. “Glad that I can catch a cab home and bundle up. Are you going to be here for a while?”

“Yeah, probably. I'm here until at least six today. Got to muck out stalls and earn my and Cap's keep,” Dan tells him. “I look great covered in horse poop, let me tell you that. Smell even better. It's hard work keeping all the grooms off of me when I leave but someone's gotta do it.”

Phil can't hide the giggle that escapes him. He can't remember the last time he _giggled_. Giggling is something that twelve-year-old schoolgirls do.

Dan catches his noise and his own smile is bright and real and it crinkles up his eyes at the corners and Phil gets lost for a second in Dan's absolute blinding attractiveness. He thinks Dan probably could manage to look good after mucking out stalls.

That bit, he keeps to himself. No more flirting with Dan.

When Dan brings him to a stop and Phil dismounts with relative comfort, knowing to swing out of the saddle now and land on the balls of his toes instead of flat on his heels, Dan looks at him with a content look on his face.

“So, did I make you a lover of horses, Phillip?” He's teasing Phil about the meaning of his name.

“I wouldn't say I love them. But I definitely think Pokey's pretty nice. I wouldn't be against another trail ride now, I think, as long as I'm not on an ex-barrel racer who spots a vaguely familiar, cylindrical object.” Phil jokes.

“Though, um. If I wanted more lessons, how much do they cost? I mean, lessons with you.”

Dan gives a short, surprised laugh. “Ah, ha-ha. Well, I don't actually do private lessons – this was kind of a one time thing because I hate seeing people leave with bad experiences with horses. Actual private lessons would be with either Laura or Tyler and that's a hundred pounds a lesson.”

“Oh.” Phil's kind of disappointed that Dan wouldn't be available for more private lessons. He does like Dan, even if Dan seems disinterested in Phil romantically, because he at least seems to get on with Phil pretty well, except for when he clams up about himself.

Because it's only about himself that Dan doesn't like talking about. Phil picked up on that throughout the lesson.

“However, if you really did want lessons, it's fifty quid and I do teach one class on Monday that's at six at night and it's beginners of any age. It's got three kids, a teenager, and one other adult.”

“That sounds like something I think I'd like,” Phil admits. “Maybe take another few lessons, see if I still like horses after that.”

Dan takes Pokey's reins from him. “It's hard not to, in my opinion. But I'm biased.” His eyes shine as he looks at Pokey. “Even lazy gits like this.” There's no malice in his voice whatsoever as he talks. He genuinely loves horses just completely.

“Here, you go ahead and take off and keep out of the rain. I'll untack Pokey and groom him and you can call the stable and set up if you want to take lessons another time, okay?”

Phil lets Dan lead Pokey out of the arena and back towards the main aisle of the stable. He follows next to Dan and waits until Dan has slid Pokey's bridle off and his halter on and has clipped him to the wall before reaching out and offering his hand, saying “Thanks for the lesson.”

Dan squeezes his hand chummily. “You did good. Glad you enjoyed it. If you want, there's some carrots in a bag in the tack room – you can give one to Pokey. I would chat with you but I really have to, again, get going on that mucking out after I untack and groom him.”

Phil sticks his head in the tack room and looks around until he finds the bag and then snaps the carrot in half, giving one half to Pokey and then the other, and it's not scary this time to have Pokey's mouth near his palm.

Then, as Dan undoes Pokey's saddle, Phil turns and leaves the stable, ringing a cab again, not going to bother Dan while he quickly does whatever he needs to do with Pokey. As he's leaving, Dan calls to him, "At least buy some boots if you sign up for lessons," and Phil grins at that as well.


	3. Chapter 3

When Phil returns on Monday, Dan isn't waiting for him. He arrives ten minutes before six thinking that's plenty of time and finds that Dan's busy talking to another student and when he glances at Phil, he looks harried.

“Hey, you're on Pokey. Just to let you know, if you plan on making this a recurring thing, get here maybe twenty-minutes before six. We like to groom our horses before and after lessons. Just grab the tack and I'll show you what to do.” Dan says, brusquely.

“Am I late?” Phil asks, surprised.

“Theoretically, no. Technically, yes. The rest of your group are all here and busy tacking up.” He gestures down the aisle where there's five horses, five other riders, all in appropriate gear.

Phil didn't have time to get all his new clothing shipped, but he did go out and buy proper shoes. Right now he's wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and brown leather boots with a heel. He hopes that's good enough for Dan.

“Do I have time to tack up?” Phil asks.

Dan offers him a vaguely scrunched nose. “Well, not if you want to actually learn how. We'll reverse it- after the lesson, I'll show you how to untack and you can try and figure out how to tack up based on that and groom a horse.”

Phil feels horrible that he's screwed up by showing up late, even though he's early. He watches Dan as he grabs Pokey's tack, all but the bridle, moving efficiently into Pokey's stall, putting on the pad and the saddle and tightening the girth, rubbing his neck, talking to students along the hall.

Phil stands back and watches. He feels just as lost as he did originally. When Dan grabs the bridle and finally puts it on Pokey, Phil steps forward. He watches as Dan lets the group of riders lead their horses around the corner into the arena and then hands over the reins to Pokey.

“Go on inside, I'll help you mount up,” Dan says.

When Phil gets inside, all the riders are on their horses except him. He leads Pokey to the mounting block, embarrassed, waiting until Dan comes to hold Pokey steady while he swings his leg over.

Once he's settled, he quickly assembles himself. Legs curved just, heels down, back straight, reins in his fingers. Dan pats his knee off-handedly and says, “Just go behind David,” and he nods at the last rider and horse that have formed a line along the wall.

Phil's afraid he's forgotten everything but he gently squeezes Pokey's sides and Pokey steps forward at a plodding pace and when he's within, oh, say, three meters of David, Phil pulls Pokey to a halt too abruptly. Too much space between him and David, but better than not enough.

He thinks of David's horse kicking him and would rather stay where he is. He glances at Dan and sees Dan giving him a confused look.

“Okay, guys, time to start the lesson. Let's just let them all walk. You know the drill, we'll go around for a bit. Let them stretch their necks, get your seats. Let's talk about your week, how's everything going?” Dan announces, turning away from Phil.

Apparently, this is common for Dan, and everybody chimes in, taking turns, talking about what's gone on in the last week. Phil remains silent, listening.

“Shyla, how did your test go?” Dan asks. “You mentioned you were nervous about it.” Shyla, a pre-teen with fluffy blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, smiles.

“I missed one question.” She answers and her voice is quiet, almost like an admission of guilt.

Dan gives her a look that's both congratulatory and almost sad a moment later. Phil watches as Shyla constantly adjusts her seat, carefully moving her hands, checking her legs, and it's just tiny motions but he thinks he understands.

Shyla's a perfectionist and she holds herself to standards that can't be met and it's never good enough. Dan can see it just as much as Phil and Dan, who has admitted he cares about the kids he teaches rather than the adults, doesn't want to see her sad like that.

“One question is nothing.” Dan finally speaks. “If I only made one mistake on my tests in school, I'd be so proud of myself. I'm proud of you.”

Shyla doesn't smile though, just checks her reins again and falls quiet.

“Amber,” Dan says, turning. “How's your husband?” He sounds less interested, though he tries to mask it, and the only other person near Phil's age speaks up.

"His leg's doing better now – the doctor's said he can get back to work next week.” She answers.

Dan takes his time going around the group of people, stopping on Phil after he inquires about David's violin lessons.

“Phil, how are you doing? Glad you came back for another lesson?”

Phil's letting his hips sway with Pokey's slow, plodding steps, and he finds himself actually almost comfortable. He won't admit he came back just to see Dan but he does find himself agreeing that he's glad that he came back.

“I see you got proper riding boots,” Dan says, smiling. “Can you feel the difference in your stirrups already? Feet aren't sliding around as much?”

Phil focuses on that and yeah, he actually can. The stirrups feel better on his feet. He can't believe how much a difference a pair of shoes can make when he's not even standing on them.

“Yeah,” he admits, blushing.

“Alright, guys, so, we've been walking for a few minutes, let's pick up a jog,” Dan announces. Phil doesn't reach for Pokey's mane. He trusts Dan to know his limits. He's following behind David still and when David's horse moves forward into a jog after the horse in front of him, Phil squeezes and Pokey snorts and, on cue, following the horse in front of him, starts moving faster.

Phil bounces in his seat, settles himself, tries to sit out the movement better than he has before.

“Alright, Phil, keep those hands steady but good job picking up the pace without any guidance from me. See, you're learning already.” Dan comments. Phil bounces along on Pokey's back, to his jolting pace, focusing on keeping his seat steady.

The lesson goes smoothly and at about fifteen minutes into it, after walking again for a bit, Dan announces they're going to trot. At this point, he comes over to Phil. “Okay, so, the trot is obviously faster than the jog and a hell of a lot more bouncy. You're going to post it to off-set that. It might be hard for you to tell but I'll tell you if you're on the wrong beat.”

Phil has a distant flashback to Dan telling someone to sit a beat while they were trotting before.

“Basically, once Pokey starts trotting, and you'll feel the difference between a jog and a trot, start rising and sitting back down in the saddle. If you're on the wrong beat, I'll tell you, and you'll sit two paces instead of one so that the next time you rise up you're on the right beat. You'll be able to feel the difference. I'm going to jog alongside you for a bit until I'm sure you know what you're doing.”

Phil is, yet again, grateful for Dan's guidance and voices as much. Dan smiles at him slightly.

“Just what I'd do for any newcomer. Okay, you ready, guys?” His voice gets louder. “Signal your horses to begin trotting! Wait until the person in front of you has picked it up before you start.”

Phil watches as in front of him, five other horses begin to move faster and he can see that it's faster than a jog and he watches intently as five riders begin to lift and fall in the saddle.

“By the way, use your thighs and calves, not your feet, to propel yourself upwards. Keep your back straight so you stay balanced.”

Phil's ninety-five percent sure that he's going to screw up and make a fool of himself. This all sounds like a lot of information to keep in his head that he has no idea what he's doing with.

Then Dan is jogging forward and Phil's tapping at Pokey's sides automatically, and Pokey snorts, and Phil can feel him shift from a walk to a jog and then a few seconds later, Dan's saying, “Signal him again,” jogging faster, and Phil nudges his heels into Pokey's side and the gait becomes even more bouncy and his bum hurts from hitting the saddle and he instinctively starts to do what Dan had said, lifting up when he gets bounced, sitting down a second later.

It takes him another ten seconds to figure out the rhythm but once he does, he's lifting and falling and Dan's glancing up at him. “Good, you figured out the right beat. Here, sit two so you can feel what it'll feel like when it's on the wrong beat, and then correct yourself again after a few seconds.”

Phil does as he says, sitting out two steps and then starting to lift and fall and it's horribly awkward, he feels like he's getting thrown all over the place and he definitely does not like that, grabbing at Pokey's mane as he sits immediately for another two paces.

When he starts posting again, it's on the correct beat and he's quite relieved. “Yeah, I can feel the difference,” he calls to Dan. “It's not fun.”

Dan grins at him. “You know, aside from your initial tumble, you're not half-bad at this, Phil.”

Phil feels a slight rushing of pride at Dan's words and then Dan, apparently having decided that Phil's ready for the sink or swim portion of this activity, steps away, back towards the center of the ring.

“Okay, that's good, Shyla, you look great, David, keep your heels down while posting, Amber, you're on the wrong beat, Tanner, don't let your hands flop around, you'll hurt Maggie if you keep pulling like that."

They go in circles around Dan and it's nothing like the private lesson where Phil could talk to Dan. In fact, he's afraid to open his mouth and ask Dan anything, in front of these pre-teens and just because Dan's busy talking to everybody at once as he guides them along.

But he makes up his mind that after the class is over, he's going to ask Dan out for coffee. Everybody likes coffee, right? Or even if they don't, everybody likes the things that Starbucks can make that's probably more sugar than anything else and tastes of caramel and deliciousness.

There's gotta be a rule about that somewhere, that nobody can turn down a caramel macchiato. He's going to ask Dan if he'd like to get coffee and talk because he finds Dan genuinely interesting, despite his sarcastic nature, and it's decisively not going to be a date, since Dan is clearly not interested in him, it's just someone who wants to be friends.

After a bit, Dan slows them to a walk again. Off to the side are a bunch of foam poles and he sets them up as they walk around, placing them in a line along the length of the arena.

“Okay guys, we're gonna just have a little fun here. We're going to trot again and you're going to weave in and out of the poles. Doesn't matter if you start to the left or right, just make sure you switch on each pole, and we're going to do it at the trot. When you get to the last pole, circle around and come back, repeating the exercise. We'll do it individually.”

Phil suddenly is more than plenty nervous. He's barely got the hang of trotting and now he's got to guide his horse in front of all these people when he's only had one prior lesson? He kind of wants to voice his dissent, that he'll just sit this one out, but then he thinks that Dan will probably not want to hang out and have coffee with someone who isn't even brave enough to give this a shot.

He's going to look like a fool and fail miserably but he's going to do it.

He watches as everybody takes their turn and seems like a pro at guiding the horses in and out of the poles and why wouldn't they be? It's just a trot and they've all had lessons and they're more experienced and Phil can't believe how embarrassing it is that he's going to try this and probably screw up because this is only his second lesson and what is Dan thinking?

Then it's his turn and Dan's smiling at him. It's a real smile, too. Phil's seen enough of Dan's fake smiles and enough of his real smiles in the two times they've spent together to know the difference.

“Ready, Phil?” Dan asks. “If you want, you can do it at a walk. I know this is only your second lesson.”

“No. I'll, um. I'll try it at a trot.” Phil's bravery astounds him. So maybe he's trying to impress Dan.

“Don't over-extend yourself. Broken wrist, remember?” Dan chides him gently, lifting his arm, a reminder of what happened when he tried something he wasn't ready for.

“I think I'll be okay.” Phil says. He prays he's right. “Do you really think I'll fall and break my wrist doing this at a trot?”

Dan laughs at that. “No, you're probably right. If you're sure.” He's standing by Phil, having walked over. “Need me to help you get started at the trot?” He asks.

“No. I just – I don't want you to think that I'm too afraid to try this.” Phil says. Dan's eyes widen slightly.

“Wouldn't think it at all. I think you're actually being really awesome that you're going to try it at a trot. Good luck.” Dan pats his boot.

Phil taps his feet to Pokey's side firmly and the horse gives a wheezy sounding snort and after just a couple steps at the walk, he starts trotting when Phil encourages him again. He starts posting and stares at the foam poles as they approach.

_Just breathe, just guide him, you don't have to look good, just do what everybody else did._

When he gets to the first post, Pokey goes to the left and so Phil lets him and then pulls the right rein to bring him back in and heads towards the second pole, and Pokey automatically goes around it and Phil's relaxing slightly. 

It's not as scary as he thought and Pokey, although, well, stubborn and pokey, is a good horse that seems to know what to do, and so Phil makes it through the line of obstacles, switching from left to right fairly consistently, although he messes up on one and goes twice to the right.

When he gets to the last one, he tugs Pokey's left rein, pulling him, and Pokey snorts, turning in a circle and Phil thinks he's going to miss the first pole, coming up too fast, but Pokey swings his body around it. 

Phil has a brief flashback to Rocket and her being a barrel-racer who had thrown him the last time he was in a situation like this and he's so much more in control right now, Pokey going where he guides him, to the right now, and then the left, and the right again, and down the line, until he's past the last pole and pulling Pokey to a stop in front of Dan. 

“Good job, Phil,” Dan tells him. “Aside from that tiny little blunder the first time around, I'm proud of you. Guys, you should clap for Phil, here. It's only his second lesson and he was brave enough to go do that at a trot.” 

He glances at the rest of the group and they actually do clap and Phil is embarrassed, he doesn't know if this is genuine or not, but Dan's clapping too, softly, and then patting his ankle. “Alright, go back behind David again, I'll clean up, you guys just walk for a bit.” 

The rest of the lesson is just alternating between walking, jogging, trotting, and Phil can handle that. When they finally slow to a walk for the last time, ambling along, Dan catches up with him from the center of the arena. 

“So after the lesson, I'll show you how to untack and groom a horse.”

“Yeah, okay. I had a question I wanted to ask you later, too.” Phil says. Better to ask in private so that if Dan does reject his offer of friendship, it won't be in front of the entire class. 

“Oh? What is it?” 

“No, I'll ask it later. It's kind of personal, I don't feel like asking it in front of everybody,” Phil says. “Nothing weird, just – I'm a little bit private.” 

Dan pauses. “I feel you on that one. I'm definitely a private guy myself. Alright.” He smiles at Phil but it's a fake-smile. Phil wishes Dan wouldn't offer him those. When Dan gives him that smile, it doesn't touch his eyes, it's too fast and sharp and when Dan has a real smile on his face, it lights his entire face up, shines his eyes bright, dimples out his cheeks, and it's lovely. 

Dan watches them all, commenting in turn about the good parts of everybody's lesson and then what they could have improved on. When he gets to Phil, he tilts his head. 

“Phil, you did really good today for only your second lesson. You figured out how to post without any help and you were able to feel what it's like to post on the wrong beat. You kept your form pretty good, although you still need to remember to keep your heels down. I know it's easy to forget because you're new and not paying attention to it. I'm definitely pleased that you did the pole bending exercise at a trot. Seriously, I hope you keep making these fast improvements at the same rate, make me look good as an instructor.” Dan says, joking. 

“Okay, guys, stop. Dismount and lead your horses out of the arena. First person out go down to the end of the aisle so that there's room for the next person to clip their horse behind them and so on.”

They all respectively stop and Phil drops his feet from the stirrups and swings his body over Pokey. It's still a little scary getting down, because Pokey is so big, but it's a far cry from his first time on a horse. 

In fact, he definitely likes Pokey. Pokey's a good horse who just does what he's told and doesn't get spooked by birds or loud noises and as Phil waits for the riders in front of him to lead their horses out so he can follow, Pokey swings his nose over and whuffles in Phil's ear, nudging him sloppily. 

Okay, there's horse slobber and grime on his cheek now. Not quite as big a fan of Pokey as he was a few seconds ago. He wipes it off awkwardly, making a face, and Dan grins at him, he catches that out of the corner of his eye. 

“Horse drool is a good look on you, Phil,” he teases. “Brings out your eyes.” 

“You've yet to show me your mucking out look you've promised charms all the grooms,” Phil calls back, blushing. Dan grins more broadly at that.

“Stick around for an hour if you really want to see it. I'm breathtaking.” He shoots right back, their banter easy. 

Phil leaves that last bit alone. Dan really is breathtaking anyways. David's exiting and so he steps forward, keeping Pokey's reins in his hand and Dan follows him. 

When he gets to the middle aisle where the lesson horses are kept, he stops, not sure how to go about the next bit, but Dan's there to step in. 

“Okay, grab his halter, it's hanging outside his stall.” He takes the reins from Phil and Phil reaches for the halter, looking at it like a foreign object. “It's not that hard, remember? Here, put it over your arm like this,” and Dan shows Phil how to rest the halter so that it hangs on his arm, “and unbuckle the bridle here,” he lifts his hand up to behind Pokey's ear, “and slide the bridle off, keeping one arm around Pokey's neck so he doesn't go anywhere. Not that he would, horse doesn't move unless he has to.”

Phil does as Dan says and Pokey's face is suddenly freed of the bridle and left bare. 

“Okay, now, here's how you put the halter on.” Dan shows Phil, guiding Phil's hands. Phil can feel the softness of Dan's fingers and wonders if Dan is this tactile with everybody. He watches and tries to memorise how Dan shows him how to put on a halter. 

“Good, yeah, okay so now slide this here,” and he shows Phil how to tighten the strap so that it stays on Pokey's face. “Grab the rope ties on either side of the walls and clip Pokey at each ring here.” He taps at Pokey's jaw. 

Phil does as Dan says and Dan disappears for a moment, coming back with a bucket full of brushes and something else in it, something that has a sharp, pointed metal section angled away from the plastic container holding it. 

“Okay, now, here's how you untack a horse. You're going to do this in reverse when you tack him up so pay attention.” Dan goes about showing him how to undo the girth, sliding the saddle and pad off in one fell swoop. “Just an FYI, when you put the pad on first, push it up and then down a little so that any hair underneath isn't caught, so it lies flat. Imagine how uncomfortable it'll feel if you had a bit of hair twisted and constantly being pushed around. And don't just throw the saddle on your horse's back, place it on there gently. You wouldn't like it if someone just threw something on you, right?” 

“There's no way I'm going to remember all of this for the next lesson,” Phil admits. 

“Of course not,” Dan agrees. “It's a lot of information. But you'll remember some of it and I'll help you again next time.” 

Pokey's now free of all of his tack and he gives a little shiver, his entire body rolling, as if pleased to be freed of the restraining items. 

“Okay, so, here's how you groom. You're gonna start with the hoof pick.” Dan picks up the foreign object that Phil had been staring at. “Stand like this, doesn't matter what leg you start on.” He demonstrates, facing towards Pokey's rear, at his hind leg, “and run your hand down his leg until you get to here,” and he shows Phil. “Squeeze and he should pick up his hoof but if he doesn't, give a little tug and you'll be fine. Just don't let him put his foot back down on your hand.”

Phil thinks of the weight of a horse standing on his fingers and gives a sudden shudder of his own. He's a little nervous about putting his hands that close to Pokey's hoof suddenly. 

But he positions himself where Dan is and does what Dan has told him to do and sure enough, Pokey's leg bends and he tilts his hoof back and Dan catches Phil's hand, shows Phil how to cup under and hold it there. 

“Use the sharp end of the pick to gently scrape out all the dirt in there. Make sure you go around the edge of the horseshoe, too. Then use the stiff brush after you're done to make sure it's all out. Do that for all four feet.” 

Phil does what Dan says, digging out clods of dirt and a few tiny pebbles, and it all falls on the cement ground in a little mess. 

“Okay, so while I said it's not important what leg you start with, I always go with the back first because then you cross in front of the horse when you're done with the front leg. Horses can't see directly behind them so if you walk behind Pokey too close, you risk him kicking you if he freaks out. So, you know, never walk behind a horse without having your hand on his body so he can feel you and knows where you're at. Or if you can't do that, give them a wide berth.” 

Dan's teasing Phil a little as he speaks, his tone just this side of not quite mocking, but taking the piss with Phil, and Phil glances at Dan. 

“You have a nice smile,” he says, without thinking. Dan blinks a few times and the smile fades from his face slightly. 

“Uh, thanks,” he answers. “Okay, that hoof looks good, move on to the next one.” Phil backs up to Pokey's front leg and repeats the process, then after he's done that, he moves around Pokey's front and moves on to the opposite side. 

Once he's satisfied that all the dirt is out of Pokey's horseshoes, he stands up. His back hurts a little from being bent over for so long.

“Okay so, this here is the brush you want to use to start with. It's called a bristle brush or a dandy brush. Depending on how dirty your horse is, the stiffer you want the bristles. Most of the time, though, you won't need anything too harsh. Start at the withers and sweep it across his body, then go down his sides and legs. Avoid his face though. There's a separate brush for that.”

Phil does as Dan says, covering every inch of Pokey's body, watching dust fly off him into the air. He can't really see it, since the dust matches Pokey's actual colouring, but he makes sure to go over Pokey twice, just in case. 

“Thorough,” Dan says, pleased. “Good. More riders need to be like you, make sure they do a good job.” 

Once Pokey's been brushed out everywhere but his face, Dan reaches down and picks up a different brush. “This one is the face brush. It's softer, see,” and Phil touches the bristles, which are indeed very soft. “Go over his face, avoid his eyes.” 

Phil carefully grooms Pokey's face, sweeping it over his cheek and under his jaw and along his muzzle, down his face. Pokey snorts and pushes at Phil with his nose as he does so. 

“See, that's Pokey saying thank you,” Dan tells him. Phil catches Pokey's nose and rubs it gently with his hand, not nearly afraid anymore of the horse, who is genuinely a very nice horse. 

“You're acclimating,” Dan comments. “Look at you, you're even smiling. You like horses now?” 

“I like this one,” Phil says easily. “He's a good horse.”

“Well, next time, I'll put you on a new horse, see if we can get you to like her. Maybe Rocket?” Dan says and Phil looks at him. “I'm only teasing. Though you will ride Rocket at some point. Once I'm sure you can handle her if she freaks out, though I doubt we'd be doing an activity that would make her want to go back to her old barrel-racer ways. You could probably handle her just fine even now. She's not nearly as bad as you think.”

Phil thinks about wanting to impress Dan. “You promise?” He asks. Thinks about maybe Dan will agree to coffee if Phil shows him that he's not scared, that he's actually kind of cool enough to do this. “You can put me on her next lesson if you promise.”

Dan gives him a slow, appraising look. “Phil, you're doing all sorts of things to impress me today,” he says chummily. “If you're sure about that. I'll make sure there's no barrel-shaped objects in the arena next lesson.” 

“I'm sure.” Phil says. “Okay, next?” He puts the brush back in the bucket. 

“This is the mane and tail comb. Don't start at the top, you'll rip out the hair. Start at the bottom and just gently, like this,” and Dan demonstrates with Pokey's tail, picking it up and leaning his weight just slightly against Pokey's flank so that Pokey knows where he is, “start brushing.” 

Phil's a little nervous about the idea of getting kicked but he places himself where Dan is and takes the comb from Dan, guiding it through Pokey's tail carefully. Pokey's tail is kind of sparse to begin with and it doesn't take him too long and then he moves to where Pokey's mane flops over his neck, starting there too.

“So what did you want to ask me?” Dan asks quietly. In front of them, most of the riders have finished grooming their horses and are putting them away or have put them away, and it's just them and Shyla, who is just as thorough as Dan, down the aisle some ways away. She can't hear their conversation. 

“Did you want to have coffee some time? You seem nice, like someone I'd like to be friends with, and I figured coffee is a good place to start friendship. I mean, everybody likes caramel macchiatos, right?” Phil repeats his thoughts from earlier. 

“As a matter of fact, I love caramel macchiatos.” Dan agrees. He pauses. “I'm not against the idea. You seem nice enough and it's hard to turn down someone who's offering to buy you coffee.” 

If Dan's presuming that Phil's buying the coffee, does that make it a date? Phil doesn't want to think too hard about that. 

“What's your phone number? I'll text you when I have a free day and we can meet up somewhere.” Dan says, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. Phil rattles his number off, letting Dan tap the keys. “Alright, Phil, I've got you saved.”

Phil keeps his smile inside as he finishes grooming out Pokey's mane. “Okay, what next?” He asks, putting the comb back into the bucket. 

“Now, you're done. You don't have to do that thorough of a job before a lesson but it's still nice to brush out your horse and make sure they're clean before you put on the tack.” Dan says. “Now, you unclip him and lead him into his stall and take off his halter again and let him relax. You can give him a handful of hay or a carrot if you want as a reward for being such a good horse.” He gestures to the haybale sitting not far away. 

Phil unclips Pokey and guides him by his halter. “Always stand on the left side when you lead him,” Dan comments. Phil quickly switches sides and Pokey follows him down the few stalls to his home and Phil puts him inside and after a moment of fumbling, manages to get the halter off by himself. 

When he exits, Dan closes the door and hooks it with a heavy steel rod through a lock. “There you go.” 

Phil steps over to the haybale and tears out a decent handful and brings it over to Pokey's stall, where Pokey's sticking his nose out eagerly, already anticipating his treat. Holding his hand flat, he lets Pokey lip up the hay from his hand, two mouthfuls worth.

“Good boy,” Phil says. He glances at Dan. “I'm serious about Rocket, by the way. If you promise I won't fall, you can put me on her next lesson. Since it's so important to get over your fears, as you've told me.” 

“You're an interesting guy, Phil.” Dan tells him softly. “I think I'd like to be friends with you too.” Phil tries not to blush but he can feel the heat rolling through him. 

Dan's right there and Phil would love nothing more than to kiss him, see if Dan's lips are as soft as they look, and Dan isn't interested in him so Phil takes a step back to get his brain back together. 

“You said you have to muck out stalls again?” Phil asks. “I'm obviously not going to stick around for an hour while you have to work; that would probably be pretty annoying.”

“Yep, earning me and Cap's keep some more,” Dan says cheerily. “Be lucky you're just taking lessons. If you owned a horse here, you'd be stuck with me doing that too. If you think your back hurts after using the hoof pick, just wait until you've spent four hours cleaning out stalls.” 

Phil can only imagine. “You should definitely take me up on that coffee then, so you can have a treat after your hard work. I might even buy you two caramel macchiatos if you want.” 

Dan's tongue peeks out as he skims it across his upper lip, looking at Phil. “Have a good one, Phil. I'll text you, don't worry.” 

Phil heads out of the barn and gets his phone out to call a cab to pick him up. He really should see if there's a bus service around here that he can just walk to after the lessons, it'd probably be a lot cheaper. 

But he's in a good mood. Dan's agreed to grab coffee with him and Dan thinks he's brave and wants to be friends and that's something. Even if he's not interested in Phil, Phil thinks Dan's someone he'd want to be friends with anyways, see what other ways he can make Dan laugh and show off that side of him that isn't sarcastic and is actually quite pleasant.


	4. Chapter 4

Dan doesn't call or text once in the time between that lesson and Phil's next. Phil tries not to take it personally, though in a way, he does. He justifies it that Dan must be busy.

When he gets to the stable, twenty minutes early, he's nervous. He's going to be on Rocket today. He has a feeling that Dan's going to push him. If he's learned anything from the two lessons and one trail ride he's had from Dan, it's that Dan doesn't let anybody stagnate for even a moment if he can help it. It's only when a rider insists on not moving forward themselves that he doesn't push them.

Dan's in the tack room and Phil carefully ducks his head inside. “Um, hello.” He offers. Dan looks up, sitting behind a tiny thing that might pass for a desk or a night stand, depending on what definition one went with, a multitude of papers scattered across it.

“Hi,” Dan says briefly. He glances at the papers again and pushes them away. “How are you?” He doesn't sound disinterested, nor does he sound overly-interested. He sounds about as neutral as can be.

“Just wanted you to point out Rocket's tack so I could go ahead and get started. Maybe you could watch me in case I screw up?” Phil suggests.

“Sure, just give me a minute. Figuring out finances this month for me and Cap.” Dan says, waving at the sheet he's focusing on. “The tack room is also our office. Laying before you is basically everything that keeps this place running, and on top is all my information.” He snorts at the mess. “Never get involved in horses, Phil.”

He points to Rocket's tack, which Phil distantly recognises from his first time. The saddle is different though and it has tiny stars embossed across the front and a big, thick protrusion from the centre. The saddle pad is bright red and thicker than most. The bridle looks slightly different as well.

“She's used to being ridden Western or English. Gives her riders a treat. Figured we'd get you to canter today, you'd have the saddle horn to hang on to,” Dan comments. “When you went trail-riding with her, I figured we'd tack her up English that day.”

Canter. That's what she was doing when she dumped him. Phil feels even more nervous. He reaches down and grabs a bucket with grooming supplies in it to mask his nervousness, heading down with Dan to Rocket's stall.

He puts on the halter without too much trouble and Dan nods at him, smiling.

“Good, you've learned.”

“So you've been busy?” Phil asks Dan. “Didn't hear from you this week about hanging out.”

“Very busy. Cap's vet bill came back for more than I was expecting. Been pulling extra shifts to earn enough to cover it,” Dan says. Phil can't hold it against him and instantly forgives Dan for not calling.

“Just clip one side again,” Dan comments. “In case anybody needs to bring their horses by,” and Phil clips the right side of Rocket's halter to the clip-ties hanging from outside the stall.

Somehow, she seems less ominous. She looks small. He can thank Pokey for that. She snorts at him and shoves her nose at his chest and he reaches up, even though he's remembering falling, and catches her nose.

“You're going to be good today?” He asks gently. She whuffles and Phil rubs her nose. Dan watches them and smiles more broadly, dimples coming out. Phil pretends not to notice it.

“Just groom her with the main stiff brush, don't worry about anything else, then tack her up.” He leans against the stall. “I'll watch and correct if need be.”

The grooming goes fast enough, is easy enough, though Phil is aware of Dan's eyes on him the entire time. He feels a shiver run through him as he drops the brush into the bucket after he's done, noticing that Rocket's coat gleams just slightly brighter.

“Alright, now, tack her up,” Dan says cheerfully.

Somehow, even though Phil knows it shouldn't be much different, the different tack throws him and he fumbles through it. He puts on the saddle pad, bumping it up her withers and sliding it back down, that he can do well enough, but when he hefts the saddle, which is heavier than the English saddle, he lifts it up and carefully drops it over her back, adjusting it on the pad.

He looks at the girth hanging from it and looks at Dan. “Wait until she breathes?”

Dan shrugs. “She's not one to hold her breath. You probably don't need to. But you can, if it makes you feel better.”

It makes Phil feel better and he waits until she exhales, reaching over and catching the girth and pulling it tight. “Where do I buckle it?” He asks. Dan steps forward and motions and Phil slides it tight.

“You're doing well enough, Phil,” Dan assures him. “Better than I'd expect for a third lesson, especially when you've only seen reverse-tacking up. You're a fast study.”

Phil tries not to let the praise go to his head, even though it flutters around and sings to him. Dan is either straight or not interested in him. Don't get invested.

“Bridle,” Dan says. “Go ahead with that.”

Phil stares. Now he sees what's different. The English bridle has a band across the nose that the Western one doesn't. That's the only major difference, along with obviously longer reins.

“Am I going to look weird riding Western?” He asks. “Everybody else will be riding normal.”

“English.” Dan corrects him. “And no, you won't. People are used to Rocket being ridden Western.” He unclips Rocket for Phil and slides off her halter, waiting.

Phil stares at the bridle. “I've forgotten,” he admits. Dan takes the bridle and positions it on Phil's hand, guiding his right hand to Rocket's mouth and Phil thinks about how big her teeth are again as she lips her mouth open, bares her teeth practically, and Dan's pushing Phil's hand forward until the bit is inside, and then he's showing where to slide the rest of the bridle.

Dan throws the excess reins over the saddle horn. “Go ahead and lead her into the arena. The rest of the riders will be behind you soon.”

Phil hadn't even noticed the rest of the class arriving, so intent on doing things right, and he glances at them, stepping forward and leading Rocket with him. His knees wobble only slightly at the nerves he has for riding Rocket again.

He walks her forward a wide berth away from the entrance gate and stops there, so that the rest of the riders can file in, and waits.

He doesn't have to wait too long and soon enough, the rest of the group comes in, one by one.

“Think you're bendy enough to mount up without the mounting block?” Dan calls to Phil as he enters the arena as well.

“Might as well give it a shot,” Phil says. He's wearing proper clothing – he's ordered riding clothing and maybe his legs will be more flexible this way in proper riding breeches.

In fact, that's the case. He can just get his foot up to the stirrup, bending it, and Dan tells him, “Bounce, one two three, and up,” and Phil pushes off with his right foot, swings up and over, and settles himself into the saddle.

Somehow, it almost feels familiar. Only four times in and he's getting used to it.

Rocket shifts underneath him and Dan glances over. “Oh wait, don't hold the reins like that. You're riding western.” He jogs over and shows Phil how to hold the reins with his dominant hand, letting his free hand rest on his thigh.

Phil feels unnerved now, unsettled. He's only got one hand to control with and he doesn't like it.

“You're still planning on making me canter?” He jokes weakly. “When I have no comfort level or control like I used to have with both reins?”

Dan looks him over. “I'll evaluate you. If you're not ready, you won't canter.” He says it simply but honestly. Phil wonders how Dan could ever have told Phil not to trust him, because Dan doesn't trust himself.

Once Dan's gotten everybody situated, he starts them off at a walk and asks everybody how their week was. Again, Phil hangs back from talking until Dan turns to Phil and actually asks him outright.

“You were quiet during that, Phil? Nothing interesting happen.”

As a matter of fact, a mouse got into his flat and he spent the better part of the day freaking out over it until he was able to capture it and gently toss it into the ground below, hoping it didn't get hurt in the fall. But he doesn't know if Dan is really interested.

“Mouse got in the flat, no big deal,” he throws out there. Dan raises an eyebrow.

“I would have been freaking out, so kudos to you for saying no big deal,” Dan informs him. Phil dares venture out his own response.

“Trust me, I was. I just didn't want to take up lesson time with my silly escapades of mice-catching.” Phil explains.

Dan gives him a strange look, something between disappointment and almost frustration. “We're not doing anything important. The first few minutes are always going to be walking so the horses can stretch their legs. We're always going to just talk during it. Please feel free to talk during it.”

He crosses over to where Phil's at and walks with him. “Besides, you have a nice voice. People would enjoy hearing you talk.”

People? Or Dan? Phil wonders.

The lesson passes easily enough, walking and trotting and Phil feels pretty secure with those things and he has a very strong feeling that Dan's going to make him canter. Even with one hand hanging down at his side instead of both hands holding the reins doesn't adjust his balance enough to throw him.

And sure enough, Dan calls everybody to a stop. “Okay, line up against the wall, we're going to canter one by one around the arena.”

He looks at Phil. “This one is mostly for your benefit – Rocket likes to try and keep up with other horses if they're moving in front of her so I want to make sure you're comfortable. If we do it individually with nobody behind you, she's less likely to get all spitfire on you.”

Phil swallows down his fears, even as his legs turn to jelly and his hands start shaking. Dan's watching him intently and again, he jogs over to where Phil is. “You okay, Phil? We don't have to canter. You're doing really well on Rocket as it is.”

“She hasn't bolted on me yet,” Phil comments jokingly. He's been nervous about riding Rocket but honestly, now that he knows how to control a horse, how to actually ride a post and guide them, even with one hand hanging at his side, it's not been too bad. A little different from what he's previously learned but he caught on fast enough at the slower paces.

“You look petrified,” Dan tells him quietly. “You don't have to canter. I wouldn't look down on you.”

Phil really doesn't want to canter and he really wants to canter at the same time. He wants to impress Dan and he wants to prove he's able to do it and he doesn't think he can do it. He's stuck in a loop of thoughts.

“How about you go to the back of the line and watch everybody else do it and then you can decide?” Dan suggests, as if reading Phil's mind.

“Yeah, that works.” Phil agrees. He turns her around, goes to behind everybody. It's been strange being in front this entire time because whenever Dan gives instructions, they all have to wait until Phil gets started and it still takes him a minute to get started, though Rocket is definitely much more responsive than Pokey was.

He watches as David goes first, then Amber, then a girl named Terra, a boy named Christopher, and finally Shyla. Shyla's as perfectionistic as always.

He watches as she guides Sally out from the line and slides her leg back slightly and signals with a pressing of heel to her horse's side and while most people have their horses start from a walk to a trot to a canter, they're beginners and can't urge their horses on fast enough, Shyla's horse takes only one step at a walk before springing forward into a canter.

“Very good, Shyla!” Dan calls and he sounds genuinely happy. “That was a beautiful transition. Keep your seat steady, weight down, just rock your hips with it.” Shyla's form continues to be better than the rest of them all, her hands steady over Sally's neck, and Phil watches the movement of Sally as well, trying to watch her legs, to see if he can see anything about the gait that he can learn that way.

When Shyla's made five rounds around them, Dan calls for her to stop and she tugs back at Sally's reins, bringing her to a trot and then a walk, guiding her horse back to the end of the line and now Phil's in front.

Dan stands at his side again. “So. You want to? The canter is a three-beat pace. Rocket tends to favour her right lead, so when you're signalling her she'll probably pick it up naturally from the right.”

“Yeah, okay,” Phil says, as if that makes any sense to him. “Three pace beat.”

“Three beat pace,” Dan corrects him gently, with a smile. “It means one rear leg starts off things, with the rest of the three legs in the air, then one of the hind and fore legs, in Rocket's case, the right rear and left fore, will land together, and then finally her right fore will push into the ground just for a second while the last two legs are still touching and then it repeats.”

Phil wishes he'd known that earlier and could have watched more closely to see how it works. He'll have to next time.

“Okay, so, we're going to have you trotting first. Once you get the hang of things, you can try it from a stop, but for now, we're going to have you trotting. So go and start circling around me,” Dan says.

Phil guides Rocket forward and signals for her to walk, and then trot, and he picks up a post immediately. It's relatively easy to feel when he should _start_ to post and he picks up the correct beat without even thinking about it now.

After Rocket's gone a revolution around Dan, Dan calls to him, “Okay, this part's gonna be bumpy. Quit posting, sit down in the saddle, lean back a little, slide your outside leg back a little, and squeeze. She'll respond, trust me. Remember, ex-barrel racer?”

“I remember falling,” Phil shouts back softly, his voice bouncing with her stride as he stops posting.

“You won't fall, you'll be fine,” Dan promises him. “If you fall, I'll buy you an ice cream cone to make up for it.” He's teasing Phil here, though Phil doesn't appreciate being teased in front of a group of fellow students, especially as if he's a child, and scowls at Dan.

Dan seems to pick up on it and gives a rueful smile at Phil, shrugging and mouthing “sorry”.

Phil does as Dan says, pretending he's not shaking fairly hard. He sits back, lets his right leg, which is his outside leg facing the wall, slide back a couple of inches, and squeezes with it. Rocket snorts and immediately steps forward faster and he can feel it, he can feel the shift as her gait changes.

He instinctively grabs hold of the saddle horn with his free hand, clutching it, leaning forward, and Dan's calling, “No, lean back, don't lean forward, let your hips go with her, stay straight, leaning forward is her signal to go faster. Her riders used to lean forward when they'd send her towards barrels.” and Phil immediately propels himself back upright, that information enough to terrify him out of his own need to grab the horn.

He doesn't let go of the horn, though he tries to relax, to keep his legs from flopping about, and he's going so fast now, he's just passed the other riders and now has to make sure they don't run into the wall and he guides with his reins and he really hates riding Western – he feels like he has no control with just one hand on the reins – but they turn.

After a lap around the arena, Phil realises that he's not going to fall and in fact, now that he's comfortable with the pace, it's not as bad as he thinks. He takes his hand off the horn, carefully, and lets it fall back to his side, squeezing his thigh instead.

He focuses on the movement beneath him and lets his weight go with it, his hips shifting in time, and he can feel the one-two-three beat, and he lifts his head up, looking at Dan, who's smiling so big it looks like it must hurt.

“You got it, Phil,” Dan tells him. “Look at you go. Just keep circling around me and get used to it. It's fun to ride, isn't it?”

It actually really is. It's almost got a floaty feeling to it. It's not very bumpy at all. His weight shifts easily with each stride and his hand actually lays steady on his thighs now and it's a little bit like flying and he loves it, he genuinely thinks it's fun. He doesn't want to stop, he wants to keep riding this pace and he's able to guide Rocket in the circle around Dan several more times before Dan nods and signals for him to slow down.

“Ho,” Phil says, something he's noticed the other riders do. “Ho there,” he repeats, pulling back, and Rocket breaks from a canter to a trot and Phil keeps pulling until she's at a walk. She snorts and shakes out her head, her mane flopping from side to side.

Phil's exhilarated, trembling, because he did it, and because he was so scared at first, and it's all adrenaline.

He kind of wants to swing out of the saddle and jump down and run over to Dan and hug him and maybe kiss him but that probably would ruin the lesson a bit so instead he just guides Rocket to the back of the line.

Dan, however, is making his way over to Phil. “You look good out there, Phil. Obviously your posture was a bit off, but you were busy making sure you didn't fall, and then once you got the hang of it, you sat up a little straighter, got your posture back almost. You're better at this than you think.”

“What's your favourite gait?” Phil asks Dan. “Because I think mine just became the canter. It feels like flying.”

“Look at you, getting all fancy and liking these faster paces.” Dan teases him. “Mine's probably the canter too, for various reasons. Including something known as a flying change, technically, so you're not wrong about the terminology. Maybe I'll tell you one day. For now, let's do some more classwork.”

So they take turns doing wide loop de loops and playing a game that Dan calls “Three Two One”, where he calls out a number and they have that many strides to change paces.

They start out simple enough, three paces to go from a walk to a trot, then two back to a walk. Two to stop, then one to walk – which is simple enough, it's literally just the first step they talk from a stop, so nobody can fail that one, and Dan's teasing them all a little there, grinning at them.

“Good job,” he announces sarcastically and Shyla actually smiles a little herself, which is probably the first time she's smiled the entire lesson. Phil wants to tell her how impressed he is by her, because she's so talented as a rider compared to him, and she shouldn't have to be such a perfectionist on herself.

“Okay, Phil, I'm gonna have you sit this one out. Just because you're not quite used to it. So come stand over here by the mounting block.”

Phil guides Rocket over there, where Dan's standing. Dan calls out, “Three to canter,” and the group all signal, a mess of walks and trots suddenly and then they're cantering and Phil's watching the rest of the group going around them.

He looks at the legs of all the horses, trying to see what Dan was talking about, and he can actually see how the canter works now. Somehow, that steadies him in his mind, knowing how it works.

“I would have tried it,” Phil says.

“I know you would have. You would have probably signalled too hard and she really would have bolted, though,” Dan tells him. “You want to do things well, learn fast, and that's great, but you also want to impress me, I think. I don't need impressing, Phil. I'm already impressed enough by your learning.”

Phil flushes at Dan's words. “Dan,” he starts. He wants to ask, _are you attracted to me at all?_ Because maybe that's why Dan's impressed by him. He still has no idea if Dan's straight or just not interested in him though, and so he instead he says simply, “Thanks. It means a lot coming from you.”

Dan reaches up and touches Phil's kneecap gently, squeezing. “I'm just a boring old beginner's class teacher. Nothing to hold to high standards.”

Phil could swear that Dan actually sounds sad there. Disappointed. He wonders what made Dan take a break for a year from horses back when he was twenty. He can't imagine it was anything good – Dan loves horses and obviously will do anything to stay involved, given that he's pulling extra shifts to cover Cap's vet bills.

Dan's knowledgeable and encouraging and although he's sarcastic, he seems to have quelled it somewhat around Phil, perhaps to keep encouraging Phil, who is still new. So Phil has no idea why Dan thinks he's just a boring old beginner's class teacher and he voices the last bit to Dan, not knowing if he's saying too much.

“I'm boring compared to old me,” Dan tells him. “That's all I'm going to say. I don't really want to talk about it.” His voice is darker here and he steps away. “Okay, one to trot!” and they're all pulling back on reins.

Only Shyla and David do it on the first beat, the rest of them now “out”, and they all come to stand by Phil while Shyla and David have a little mini-battle between them.

“One to walk!” Dan calls, and both David and Shyla manage that too, and Dan gets a gleam in his eye. “Two to canter!”

Here, David loses to Shyla, who gets her horse to trot and then immediately into the canter on the second stride, and Dan grins. “Knew that would happen. Shyla's going to be moving on to intermediate too. She'll give Drake a run for his money once they're in there together. I mean, if they're in the same class.”

“Okay, guys, let's just do a bit more regular trotting, enjoy ourselves, and then we'll walk them and cool them down. Everybody get back in your lines.”

Phil winds up in the middle of the lines now, behind Shyla and David, with Terra and Christopher behind him, and Dan's not paying nearly as much attention to him now as he is all of them, just calling out suggestions again when they start to slip up.

Still, Phil can't resist trying to impress Dan some more, making sure he's got the right positioning, holding his hands where they should be, posting even though it feels strange in this saddle, which is deeper-seated and makes him feel a bit like his bum is being whacked every time he sits down.

After a few more minutes at the trot, Dan calls them all back down to a walk and they give the horses their heads, letting them stretch out and plod along at their own pace. Rocket's ears are pricked up as she looks around, looking like she wants to go again at a faster pace.

Phil reaches forward with his free hand. “Class is over, Rocket,” and he finds that he actually likes Rocket now as well. He likes Pokey and he likes Rocket and he looks at Sally, the horse that had pushed against him the first time he'd been here, and finds that he kind of wants to go give her a pat as well to apologise for being so scared of her.

Phil blinks. When did he go from terrified of horses to actually quite liking them? In four rides time, in under a month, he's gone from terrified to wanting to learn more about them and advance to an intermediate class too and see what else he can learn.

Even if Dan wouldn't be teaching it. Even though he wouldn't get to spend a little over an hour and a half with Dan around, he'd want to be in an intermediate class and grooming and tacking up a horse and riding it and learning new things.

This is a surreal little realisation about himself. “Hey Dan,” he calls. “Remember when you were teasing me about my name? I think you're right.”

“What, lover of horses? Yeah, I kinda noticed you were getting all happy about them,” Dan teases him. “Maybe it was fate that you were named that.”

Phil wants to say, _Go get coffee with me and tell me everything you know about horses, so I can learn more, so I can hear your voice and see your smile whenever you think about something you love about them because that makes me like them even more._

Instead he just answers, “I wouldn't have liked them nearly as much if it wasn't for a good teacher,” and Dan rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, Phil,” he answers cheerfully. “Stop flattering me, I'm not going to give you special privileges like letting you slack off in class. Watch your heels,” and Phil automatically puts his heels down and Dan grins further. “Like I said. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I'd rather have you be harsh so I can learn properly than get special privileges,” Phil shoots back. He wonders if this is flirting. He's on uncommon ground – he's still new to terminology and horseback riding, but this feels like it might be something akin to flirting.

“I'll be extra-harsh then from now on,” Dan laughs. “You're not getting away with anything from now on. Tighten your reins a bit. I know we're letting them relax but if Rocket decides to take off for any reason, you'll be flopping about.”

Phil gathers up a bit of reins, collects himself, makes sure he's sitting straight and doing everything Dan's taught him, and Dan nods at him, still grinning.

“Okay, Christopher, let's go over your good points,” and he starts this section of the class. He runs through everybody's progress and weak points and when he gets to Phil, he says, “Phil, I was not expecting you to canter today, really. I was going to offer but I didn't think you'd agree and I wouldn't have been disappointed. Your form was off at first, which I expected, and while I would have busted a gut laughing after I helped you up if you'd stayed leaning forward and Rocket had gone into her old barrel-racing mode and you fell again, you stayed on and sat up and got your bearings.”

Phil reaches down to rub Rocket's neck and she shakes her head again, flopping her mane all over, lowering her head towards the ground as the reins go a little bit more slack as his hand comes forward.

“You've got a good handle on trotting and posting and you're doing well at guiding your horse, even with a new riding style, and I'm actually very impressed. You're picking up learning how to ride very quickly. You and Shyla should both be proud of your individual talent.”

Dan's encouraging Shyla again, the same way Phil wants to. Shyla looks, well, shy and hides her tiny smile, glancing away to play with Sally's mane between her fingers.

“Okay, guys, dismount and go untack and groom. Phil, do you need me to watch you one more time?”

Phil nods yes. “Just in case.” He thinks he has the hang of things now, but he wants Dan around to spend more time with him. 

“Okay,” Dan agrees.

But, as it turns out, Phil doesn't need Dan's help. While he and Dan chat a little as Dan leans against the stall – Phil offhandedly mentioning wanting a caramel macchiato again just to try and lure Dan into texting him – he untacks without a problem, puts it down on a wooden peg, and then slides on Rocket's halter, clip-tieing her with just one cheek like normal and getting her grooming supplies, going through the motions that they did last time.

When he's done, Dan praises him again. “You really are learning fast. I know I keep saying it but honestly, you're like Shyla and Drake. You're a bit of a natural. I can't believe you were afraid of horses your entire life. Imagine if you started riding when you were young, you might have some real talent going for you.”

“What, like you?” Phil asks. He wonders if he can bring Dan out of his shell a little whenever the topic turns to Dan riding.

“Yeah. Like me.” But no, his voice goes quiet and sharper and Phil drops it instantly. Guess not.

Instead, now that Rocket's groomed and had her hooves cleaned and she's ready to go back to her stall, he stands in front of her and rubs the softness of her nose, up her face, and even over her ears.

“Sorry I was such a crap first-time rider on you when we met,” Phil says quietly to her. “And that I got scared of you when you made me fall. You're not a bad horse at all.”

She leans forward towards him, pressing her face against his chest, and he rubs behind her ears, which she seems to enjoy, though a second later, he feels her mouthing at his shirt, tugging it, and he steps back, tugging it free, looking at where it's now slimy.

“I didn't appreciate that, however,” he informs her and she just stares at him, unapologetic.

Dan's smiling at him. “Look at you making friends with Rocket,” he says contentedly. “You're quite the guy, Phil. I wouldn't have expected you to come back and keep riding or be so brave and tell me to put you on Rocket for your third lesson. So can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” Phil agrees, still rubbing Rocket's face, smoothing out her mane where it falls near her eyes.

“The quasi-flirting thing you've been doing since we met?” Phil stiffens, wondering just what Dan's about to say. Dan's tone sound serious and he hopes it's not going to be, _please stop, you gigantic homo, I'm not interested._

“It's working. You might want to keep it up.” Dan's tone goes playful and quiet, so only he and Phil can hear it.

Phil takes a step back and turns to look at Dan abruptly, eyes wide. Dan's giving him a playful grin, almost a smirk.

“You're cute when you're flustered,” Dan informs him, smirk not leaving his face. “And I have to get back to all that paperwork I was looking at, now that I know you know how to untack and groom a horse. So you put Rocket away and get out of here and I'll see if I can find some time to meet you for that caramel macchiato you're so insistent on us having.”

Phil's still too surprised to respond but Dan winks at him, reaches forward and catches Phil's wrist just momentarily with his to rub his thumb across the inside, drops it, and heads back off to the tack room.

Exactly as flustered as Dan had said, Phil leads Rocket to her stall, takes off her halter, hangs it outside the stall on its hook, picks up her tack, and goes into the tack room where Dan looks up only briefly, still smiling slightly.

“Definitely cute when you're flustered,” Dan reminds him. “But don't think I'm going to go easy on you in class just because I think that.”

“I, uh. No. Wouldn't expect you to.” Phil says. “I'm gonna go. I'll talk to you later?”

“Later, Philly,” Dan says and Phil thinks that nickname is simultaneously awful and loves it when Dan says it.

So before he can make a fool out of himself by saying anything else, he turns and exits, calling for the cab as usual, though he decides to go visit Pokey and say hello before he leaves. He kind of missed the sluggish, lazy horse today.

He thinks the floaty feeling of the canter has nothing on the floaty feeling he's riding on right now, that Dan thinks he's cute, that Dan likes the flirting, praised him on how well he's learning. Phil's definitely had a good day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two dressage videos if you want to watch them are https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKQgTiqhPbw and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GT6Yn7SLkmQ

Phil waits a total of two more days before texting Dan again. He doesn't want to appear too eager. But he sends him a casually worded message, in his opinion. _Hey, what's up, how's your horse doing? Did you want to meet up for dinner?_

He gets a response about two hours later. _horse is good, horse is petulant. dinner sounds great – tomorrow? maybe around six?_

Tomorrow works for Phil. He sets his own hours for work anyways, so he just will make sure to get everything he needs done before six tomorrow. _Works for me. Did you want to meet there or have me pick you up?_

_pick me up, i guess, a bit nicer than just meeting up if it's a date._

_It's definitely a date_ , Phil agrees. _What's your address?_

He gets Dan's address which, while not super far, isn't exactly close to him either, and he shivers with the anticipation of seeing Dan outside of class. After all, if Dan looks good in dirty, dusty clothes covered in hay and horse muck, how good is he going to look cleaned up?

The next day comes and Phil drives out to where Dan lives, which is an apartment complex. He goes to the buzzer and rings for Dan, apartment number five, and Dan comes downstairs a minute later.

Dan looks _good_. Dan looks really fucking hot. He's dressed in a form-fitting black shirt and black jeans that cling to him. His hair is styled and his brown eyes shine as he smiles at Phil. “Hello,” he says. Phil feels suddenly, woefully not nearly as attractive as he was feeling a half an hour previous, dressed in a cream coloured shirt and black slacks.

Somehow, Dan dressed in casual chic looks way hotter than Phil could ever try to look himself. Phil feels all awkward in front of Dan, suddenly. He smiles back at Dan though, and says, “Hi, you look – really nice. Wow.” He stammers a bit, in fact, and he doesn't stammer, he's not that kind of guy, but Dan is just that good-looking enough to throw him.

Dan smirks a little there. “Thank you. You look pretty good too.” Which sets Phil at ease slightly. If someone as attractive as Dan thinks he looks good, he must be doing okay.

He leads Dan to his car and actually pulls open the passenger's side door and Dan snickers a little. Phil has no idea what he's doing, being so chivalrous. He's never pulled open a door for any of his dates.

Dan unnerves him. Dan's gotten under his skin in a strange way, makes Phil feel like a teenager all over again, not just the exhilarated thrill of butterflies in his stomach, but that awkward gangly feeling of being too big in one's own skin, of limbs flying all over the place.

“So, Dan,” Phil says. “Outside of horses, what do you like? I mean, let's get to know each other better.”

Dan ponders that for a second. “Well, I'm all over the place for music – I really like Muse but then again, I'm a fan of weird stuff like, Smash Mouth, or Marilyn Manson so, it's hard to really pinpoint down my musical taste. If it's good, I'll give it a listen, I suppose.”

Phil can't say he's a fan of Manson, but the other two he'll listen to, especially Muse, and he voices as much to Dan. “What about movies?”

“It's cheesy but my favourite film is Moulin Rouge. I'm not big on horror films. I'll watch them but I'll get scared too easily,” Dan admits. “I won't lie, even if I know it's completely unrealistic and there's no way it could exist, I'll still run to my room in the dark after I turn out the lights afraid it's gonna nip at my heels.”

Phil laughs. “So our second date shouldn't be a horror film then.” He can't believe he's presuming there'll be a second date, though Dan glances at him with a small smile on his face.

“Rom-com would probably be better.” Dan agrees. “What about you?”

“I'll watch whatever – I like independent films, I like giving smaller film-makers a shot,” Phil says. “I've got a friend, PJ, who makes films with his buddy Chris so that's partially why.”

“Anything I'd have heard of?” Dan asks.

“Probably not, they're disappointingly not well-known enough yet. They deserve it and if they keep at it, I think they'll both make something of themselves one day.” Phil says. “But if you'd like, we can watch some of the stuff they've done, I've got most of PJ's stuff on DVD. He and Chris pretty much always collaborate together. It was like once they worked together, they just knew they had to keep working together.”

“Kind of like Alan Davies and Stephen Fry on QI?” Dan asks and Phil laughs.

“Exactly like that.” He agrees. He stops for a red light, glances over at Dan. The sun is just starting to set and it casts shadows across Dan's face, makes him appear softer. Phil's seen the hardened expression of someone angry and bitter at the world several times now when Dan's talking, flashbacks to something in his riding career that's left him that way, and Dan himself has hinted that he's not exactly a people person.

He wonders if there's a softer side to Dan that he can get to know or if he's taking out someone who won't be compatible with him.

“So, music, movies, anything you really like on television?”

“Hah, even though I never actually do much of it, cooking shows. I spend so much time at the stables that I live off the vending machine junk we sell. I run on chocolate bars and rice krispy treats, plus a few carrots I steal from the horses' supply so I can pretend I'm a healthy human being.”

“So what, this is like the first proper meal you're going to have had all week?” Phil asks, dryly, and Dan looks at him.

“I'd try and deny it but it's not exactly a lie. I plan on eating well tonight. I just want to warn you in advance – I can eat a lot of food. If that's okay.”

“Oh, I can eat too. I'm not exactly scrawny, have you noticed?” Phil asks, given that he's six foot two. He weighs more than people think – nobody ever guesses his weight right, his height screws them up, and he can pack away a meal.

“Just warning you in case you weren't prepared for a boy who orders an appetizer all to himself plus a meal and probably dessert. I figure you should know my bad traits off the bat too.” Dan says.

Phil finds himself grinning at Dan. “That doesn't sound like a bad trait at all. I'll probably match you.”

Dan holds his gaze for a second longer, then glances back at the road. “Light's changed,” he says, and Phil drives on.

“Do you play video games at all?” Phil asks.

“Sure, that's really actually what I do in my spare time, when I have it. I'm considering getting into something MMORPG, see what's out there. I like the Elder Scrolls series, too.” Dan answers.

“Well, given that you seem to spend a ton of time at the stables, avoid those pay to play ones if you can. There's plenty of free ones you can probably play without wasting forty quid for three months worth of time.” Phil tells him.

“I've been playing Fallout 3 lately,” Phil adds. “I work from home so I can set my own hours so basically once I'm done for the day, I just unwind with that.”

“I've been contemplating getting that one. Is it any good?” Dan asks.

“Well, I think it is, I spend way too much time playing it. If you want, maybe one day we can just hang out and you can play it.” Phil offers. Even if the date goes badly, he'll leave it open for them to stay friends, because he thinks he'd want to be friends with someone like Dan.

“So, anything else I should know about you?” Phil asks. Dan mulls it over for a long while.

“You'll always come second to Cap.” He finally announces. “Even if I were to marry someone, I'm pretty sure my horse would be more important than them.”

Phil should be put out, he supposes, but he can't be. He's heard about horse people and the love they have for their animals and it sounds like it's true. “Fair enough.” He says.

“Why, is there anything I should know about you?” Dan asks.

Phil runs a hand through his hair. “I fall hard and fast when I probably shouldn't,” he answers honestly. “I don't know the meaning of the word moderation when it comes to romance.”

Dan peers at him. “Sounds like the opposite of me. How many times have you been in love?”

Phil pauses there. “Well – actually, I can't say I've ever been in love. Just that I fall hard and fast. I've been in serious like, I suppose.”

Dan seems to think that over for a second. “I've never been in love either,” he finally answers. “Never been close. Always been singularly minded on horses, back when-” he stops himself and looks out the window. “Well, back when things were different. Just haven't had someone come along since. Maybe one day.”

Phil wants to know. He wants to know what makes Dan the way he is. The way he cuts himself off every time he so much as hints at his past with horses. He doesn't pry.

“So you said Cap was originally going to be a … what, dressing horse?” Phil asks. Dan starts to giggle at that.

“Dressage. Yeah, he was. But I just use him for pleasure riding now.” Dan answers.

“Why'd you buy him? I know you mentioned the girl couldn't handle him.”

“Yeah, he was up for sale, she was the one who showed me what he was originally going to be doing when she was trying to sell him – he was acting up under her and she was yanking him around like a total twat and I knew right then I was buying him just to get her off him. He needs someone who can keep up with his … fun … personality.”

“By fun, you mean mood-shifting?” Phil teases. “You're good for that?”

Dan glances at him and his face is serious. “Yeah, I guess so. My mood shifts are there too, so we get on well. I feel like I understand him.”

“Did you ever ride dressage?” Phil asks. “What was your discipline before you started teaching?”

Dan goes quiet for a long time and Phil thinks perhaps he's pushed too far. Dan's quiet for a good five minutes while they drive and Phil isn't sure how to approach a new topic. Finally Dan speaks.

“Yeah. I did dressage. That was my discipline.” Dan's voice is harsh and Phil instinctively knows that Dan's telling him something important. “If you're actually wondering just why I come off as so abrasive, I suppose I can tell you. If you're actually interested in dating me. You might want to know right off the bat that I'm not exactly a total joy.”

“What's up?” Phil asks softly. He pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant and parks the car, turns off the engine, but makes no move to get out.

“By the time I was thirteen, I knew I wanted to ride dressage. I started training for that around that age. My parents bought me a horse, Jasper, for my fourteenth birthday. He was a great horse, six years old, and I figured I'd train him to ride dressage too.” Dan starts.

Phil listens. He tries to picture Dan as a teenager, probably hitting his first growth spurt, all gangly on a horse, by that age, pretty talented from what Dan had told him. “We entered a few shows when I was in my late teens, did pretty good. Nothing major, but I was feeling like I could go places with Jasper.”

Dan brings a hand to his hair and runs his hand through it, then brings his nail to his mouth and gnaws at it in nerves and Phil suddenly is nervous himself for what Dan might tell him.

“I was twenty when it happened – remember I told you I took a year off? We were about to do our first big show, the first show that actually had prize money worth bragging about. Intermediate 2, instead of Intermediate 1. Well, a week before, a friend wanted to go trail riding and their horse was sick, so I let them borrow Jasper.”

Dan's face goes sharp here.

He pauses. “I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I haven't told anybody this besides a single therapist who did nothing for me after a few sessions when I quit going, because she wasn't going to help me get past the shit, and Louise, my best friend. But you seem like someone who actually gives a shit about people. Like you care.”

Phil reaches over and touches Dan's wrist, and Dan jumps slightly. “It was kind of – I had a feeling all day something was wrong. I couldn't explain why, but if psychic connections exist between a horse and rider, I had it. My friend decided that he wanted to go out on a trail with some fallen logs. He decided to jump Jasper over them. Jasper's legs got tangled in a branch. He broke his leg when he fell. My friend broke an arm.”

Phil doesn't know why Dan looks so sad here. “So you couldn't go to the competition? Is that why you dropped out?”

“Horses are kind of fragile, Phil,” Dan explains. His voice is tight. “A horse with a broken leg is hard to repair because they need to stand on them. Jasper's leg was broken in such a way that he couldn't – I had to put him down.”

Dan's fingers are squeezed up tight into fists. “I kind of fell out of dressage since then. I took a year off from riding entirely and only came back because, well, I missed it. But I haven't so much as even looked at dressage riding since then. Too many bad memories of Jasper. It's hard enough knowing what Cap was originally for.”

“Do you miss dressage? I mean – I'm curious as to what it is now that you've told me what you were studying. I want to know more about you, so now I want to know more about it.”

Dan stares at his knees. “Yes. I do. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the accident – I blame myself, letting my friend take Jasper out on that trail ride, but who was I to know he'd jump my horse? I only returned to riding casually – I didn't get serious about it until about two years ago, and really serious with the teaching about a year ago.”

Phil wants to comfort Dan somehow. He doesn't have any idea how. “I'm so sorry,” he says, because it's all he can say.

“Yeah, well. It's in the past. Who knows, maybe I took it too hard. But the accident changed me, where I look at myself now and it's kind of like … I'm not the light-hearted guy I used to be. I'm cautious now. I'm afraid to push Cap and get him hurt.”

“Yet you push me,” Phil says softly. “You throw me headlong into riding.”

Dan laughs a little there. “I guess I do. I only push you because I think you can handle it and because, well, the chances of you getting hurt in a beginner's class are pretty slim to none.”

Phil's glad that he could make Dan laugh. “I appreciate you telling me – every time you brought up your past you got this look on your face and it made me wonder. Now, at least I know.” He hesitates. “Would you, um. I would understand if you didn't want to talk to me about it if it upsets you, but could you maybe, if I gave you my email, send me videos of dressage? I want to see what you did.”

Dan shakes his head. “No, um. The therapist I saw said I should talk about it. At the time, I wasn't ready, but maybe I am now. I can – if you want, after dinner, if you come back to my place, I'll show you some videos. I have two bookmarked that I've watched a couple of times, when I wonder if I shouldn't sell Cap to someone who'll put his potential to good use.”

Phil kind of wants to be invited back to Dan's place, to see it, to learn more about what Dan was so passionate about, if Dan's willing. “That'd be nice,” he agrees. “So. We've sat here long enough and I'm kind of starving. Did you want to get dinner now?”

“Sure.” Dan answers. His voice is soft. He pauses, he reaches over and touches Phil's arm. “I guess maybe I should say thank you for listening to me. Louise knows what happened, my parents know, the people from the stables where I used to ride know, but I haven't told anybody that in four years. Maybe it's time I was able to try and move on.”

Phil nods, he doesn't say anything, and then Dan is leaning over and kissing his cheek. His skin tingles where Dan's mouth touches his and he wants to turn, catch Dan's mouth with his own. But he doesn't think now's the time, so he lets Dan pull back.

“Thank you,” Phil says in response. “For telling me. I think, um. If I can be so brazen – I'm going to want to know all about you, Dan. Dan... whose last name I have yet to find out, which seems like grand misconduct if I'm taking you on a date.”

“Howell,” Dan tells him. “Daniel James Howell. And yours is Lester. But I only know that from the scheduling book in the office.”

“Cheater,” Phil accuses him. “Well, I bet you wouldn't spell my first name right, it's only got one 'l', it's P-h-i-l-i-p,” and Dan laughs.

“I would have gotten it wrong,” he agrees. “Come on, let's not talk about my tragic history anymore. Let's get food and maybe talk about something besides horses – though I could talk about them all day if you let me.”

“Talk about them,” Phil finds himself encouraging as he opens his door. “I want to hear about them. If I'm going to carry on riding them and carry on getting to know you. You're passionate about them and I'm curious.”

“I could tell you about racing. That's what Louise is interested in. She loves Thoroughbred racing. Especially American Thoroughbreds. She's in love with Man O' War and Seabiscuit and Secretariat. She'll talk your ear off about them if you let her.”

“Oh? Tell me some interesting facts about those guys then,” Phil says as he settles into stride next to Dan.

“Let's see. Well, Man O' War is basically one of the, if not the fastest race horse around. He only lost one race, and see, when he lost that one, they didn't have starting gates, they lined up behind webbed barriers. When they lifted the barrier, he was still circling around and got off to a start behind all the other horses. He still took second place.”

“Oh?” Phil says, listening with rapt attention. They pause as they enter the restaurant and Dan hushes himself as they're led to a table, and once they've settled, Phil motions for Dan to continue.

“He probably would have won the Triple Crown if they'd entered him in the Derby but his owners thought it was too early in the season for him to go the length. I presume you know enough about horses to know what the Triple Crown is?”

“I do know that much, yeah.” Phil agrees.

“Well, he won the other two races in it, the Preakness and Belmont. He only ever lost that one start. Plus, he consistently was given much heavier weights to ride with than other horses in an attempt to slow him down. But there was nothing that could stop him. He won one race by over a hundred lengths and they were slowing him down – a length is eight feet, by the way.”

Dan's eyes shine. “Then there was Seabiscuit – the movie actually does a good job summing his career up. We should watch it sometime.”

“We'll have to,” Phil agrees.

“But basically, he was this little sort of runt of a horse, all worn down. He didn't win any of his first, like, fifteen starts or something like that. They ran him a lot, though, he ran something like thirty plus races as a two year old, which – that's a lot.” Dan starts off.

“Geez, even I know nothing about horses and I know that's a lot,” Phil says, pretending to wipe sweat off his brow.

“Well, okay, so, I don't want to spoil too much of the movie for you but they got him a new trainer and a new rider, and things began to turn around for him and he started winning, except for one race which – there's a big reveal in the movie about the jockey so I won't tell you why he lost,” Dan says. “But this horse started winning and people started paying attention. And this horse was kind of like the underdog at a time when there was a lot of underdog feel going on in America, the Depression and all, and he kind of gave people hope, so Louise loves him for that, because it was like, 'if this little beaten down horse can do it, what can't we do'.”

Phil chuckles. “Sounds like Louise and you are really close.” He says.

“She's really my best friend. In fact, she's the one who kind of settled my stomach for tonight – I haven't been on a date in something like two years. The last one ended miserably. She was the one who talked me down and even told me what to wear, so, you should really be thanking her when you told me I looked good.” Dan laughs a little.

Phil chuckles with him. “Next time you talk to her, tell her it was definitely well-approved. So, we've covered Man O' War and Seabiscuit, tell me about Secretariat. I feel like I've heard that name before.”

“He's probably the most well-known. He won the Triple Crown and he took the Belmont by thirty-one lengths. I've seen the footage a dozen times, Louise makes me watch it, you should hear the announcer calling out the race, he sounds in awe, 'Secretariat is moving like a tremendous machine!'” Dan says, in his best impersonation of the announcer. “He also set a track record that has yet to be beaten. His heart supposedly weighed ten pounds, which is like twice what a normal horse heart weighed, and the way he ran, his actual stride angle, meant that he could cover more ground with each step than any other horse has.”

Phil probably shouldn't be swooning just listening to Dan talk, but he's rapt with attention and could listen to Dan all day. “Wow,” he says. “Can we watch that race when we go to your place?”

Their waiter comes with menus and Dan glances through it quickly, finds an appetizer he wants, and Phil selects his own, and they place their orders for the appetizers and main course, settle in with their own drink – Phil chooses just one alcoholic drink since he's driving them again soon.

Their conversation comes with relative ease – the faint awkwardness of a first date, but nothing too uncomfortable. In fact, once they get off the topic of horses, they still get on well. They seem to just get each other, conversation flowing freely between them. It's only awkward because, well, if Dan's not been on a date in two years, it's been almost a year for Phil, and it's just their own personal lack of experience.

Dinner goes by quickly, in fact, because Phil is hanging on to every word that Dan tells him, and he's telling his own stories. Dan tells him all about his childhood hamster, he tells him about his inability to make his way through life without floundering and putting his foot in his mouth, he tells Phil about the year when he took a break from riding horses that he actually tried going back to school for law and how that led to a complete and utter breakdown.

Phil can't picture someone as beautiful and interesting and interactive as Dan practicing something as boring as law, and apparently neither could Dan. It was as far away from horses as he could get, which is hy he chose it, and it turns out that choosing something you have absolutely no interest in is a great way to destroy your spirit.

In fact, he barely tastes his chicken foccaccia sandwich, and when it comes time for dessert, he actually passes it up, saying he'd rather go back to Dan's place and watch those videos.

Dan laughs at him and informs him that he wasn't lying about having a big stomach and even if Phil's passing up dessert, he's certainly not, and so Phil orders a slice of chocolate gateau while Dan goes for cheesecake.

But then after dinner, after Phil pays and leaves a hefty tip, he says softly, “So – did you want to go back to your place? No funny business. I'm just genuinely curious about those videos.”

Dan catches Phil's wrist and skims his wrist with his pinky as they walk back to Phil's car, and when they get in the car, he leans over, catches Phil's jaw and turns Phil to face him, leans in and kisses him.

Dan kisses like nobody has ever kissed Phil before. It takes away Phil's breath. “Maybe a little funny business afterwards,” Dan informs him. Phil shivers from the heat in Dan's voice. “It's been a long time since I went out with someone and had a good time and actually trusted them. I'm not against a little funny business right about now.”

“Oh,” Phil says softly. He kisses Dan back and Dan slides a hand over Phil's thigh, squeezes. “Maybe we can do a little of this after you show me the videos then,” he agrees.

If Phil drives back to Dan's place a little faster than he did going to the restaurant, he can't be blamed. Dan gets out of the car and leads him upstairs to his flat.

“So – videos first, then kissing?” Dan asks, standing outside the apartment door, key poised to open it. “Just making sure we've got our plans down.”

“Sounds great,” Phil agrees. Dan unlocks the door and Phil enters the flat behind him. There's Dan's riding boots by the entrance, next to his trainers, and a jacket hanging on a hook, there's a couple of pictures of Dan and Cap in frames, and the rest of the apartment is a sort of cluttered neat, knicknacks all over the place.

“I used to have all my riding trophies and ribbons hanging up in my room. But those got put away in a box after the accident,” Dan says, catching Phil looking around. “Maybe – I don't know, maybe I'll pull them out and tell you about some of them. If I'm trying to move on from the accident.”

“Why'd you trust me with that story, by the way?” Phil asks. “There had to be more than I seem like someone who would listen and actually give a shit about people, as you put it.”

“... Because you trust me,” Dan says. “I can tell. Because you trust me since I started teaching you and you've got this caring nature – I can see it when you're learning about riding and taking care of horses, you don't want to do anything wrong to hurt them. You're the same way with me – careful. You don't want to do anything to upset me.”

“No, I don't,” Phil tells Dan. He wants to reach over and catch Dan and kiss him again, let him know just how much he doesn't want to hurt him, how much he'd rather get to know everything there is to know about Dan.

Because he can tell he's going to fall for Dan. “So. Secretariat,” Phil says, for lack of better words, and then Dan's nodding, crossing over to his laptop, which is resting on a coffee table, opening it up.

“Secretariat, okay. His Belmont Stakes race,” Dan agrees, and he pulls it up. Phil watches as Dan skips ahead about forty seconds in the video he's got pulled up until the horses have finished entering the gate and are taking off.

Dan taps the screen. “Keep your eye on Secretariat,” he says, pointing at which horse is Secretariat. Phil watches as Secretariat and Sham, his contender, pull away from the other horses quickly, watches as the two horses match strides, heads bobbing side by side.

He watches as Secretariat pulls ahead and lengthens his gap between Sham and the rest of the horses, which Phil can't even see, until they get to a turn, where the distance between them is so great that Phil's jaw drops.

Phil watches in astonishment as Secretariat continues to pull ahead, until the camera has to pan back to show the horses and how far back on the field they are, and the announcer himself is stunned by the performance of the horse.

“So that was Secretariat,” Dan says. “Did you want to watch a couple of dressage videos now?”

He looks anxious. He looks like he's about to show something to someone that he hasn't shown in four years, if what Dan has told him is anything for Phil to go by.

“Sure,” Phil says, trying to keep things casual. Dan nods. His fingers hesitate as they tap out a keyword.

Phil looks at it. “Blu Hor Matine,” and Dan clicks the first Youtube link. “ANDREAS HELGSTRAND - WEG2006 Freestyle Final”. It loads up with a beautiful grey horse in the centre of the screen.

Phil recognises the fact that the horse starts out at a canter, circling around herself, tail flicking, then moving into what looks almost like a series of hops.

“Remember when I told you there's something called a flying change? Those are flying changes,” Dan says, tapping the screen. “Flying changes are when the horse changes the lead of the canter. When they're done this way, they're called one-times.”

The music is upbeat and Phil watches with an untrained eye, while Dan watches with much more rapt attention, as the mare moves into a faster canter, crossing the arena, then breaking down into a trot, with an elevated stride, tail flicking still in time to the beat of the music.

“Here she's doing what's called a half-pass,” Dan explains. “The horse moves forward and sideways at the same time,”

Then the beautiful mare moves into a slower, springier trot, and Dan comments, “Passage, piaffe. Passage is a collected trot, piaffe is where the horse pretty much trots in place. It takes a lot of talent to be able to rein in the horse and for the horse to not move while still making the actions of the trot.”

The commentator sounds astounded by the horse, complimenting her every action, and as the music changes again, so does her movement, matching pace, the stride on beat with the music.

Phil recognises the music a second later. “Hey, this is that song from Moulin Rouge!” He says, turning to look at Dan as the commentator declares the music to be that of a pop concert. The horse slows to a walk, her head angling down, stretching out, and Dan smiles a little.

“This might be my favourite dressage video for that bit of music alone,” Dan admits. “Though she was truly one of the best – she had to be put down following a leg accident,” he says, and his face saddens. “Like I said, horses are fragile.”

The horse moves back into a canter, circling around herself, and Phil can't even spot the signals from the rider, but they seem to move as one. Her ears are pricked forward in alertness, and then she starts the funny series of skips and hops, the one-times, as they're called.

Phil loses himself in watching the way the horse seems to actually be dancing. He'd never have thought a horse could dance but truly, this mare is moving in such a way that he's never thought horses could move. He just thought they went along the way you told them to.

But as the music changes back to the Moulin Rouge song, he sees the way the horse is truly enjoying herself, ears bouncing lightly, tail flicking still in time, her gait light and prancing, and she settles in the centre of the arena to do another piaffe, is that what they're called.

“The crowd is joining in!” The announcer calls, as the entire crowd begins to clap to the beat, as the song ends, as the horse comes to a halt in the ring, the rider wrapping his arms around her neck.

“Wow,” Phil says softly. “That was incredible.”

“That was more of a pop concert, like the announcer said. That was an amazing performance, but if you want truly great, like, flawless performance, hang on,” Dan says. He types in “Edward Gal Moorlands Totilas” and pulls up a video named “BEST DRESSAGE EVA”, which makes Phil laugh a little.

Phil focuses on a beautiful, absolutely gorgeous dark chocolate brown horse, mane braided, and he watches as the music starts, a deep thrumming beated sound as the horse enters the ring with a prancing gait, a pause between each step.

“Look at how collected, look at that piaffe,” Dan whispers, and his eyes shine bright as he stares. “The passage is perfect. Look at how straight his movement is,” and Phil can see the horse lifting and falling with his legs, looking almost like there's only two legs, so straight they are behind him.

Then they're moving forward and the music is picking up the pace, and the horse is practically kicking his legs out in front of him as he moves, legs not just lifting but extending forward, and the announcer declares there hasn't been a mark under ten yet.

There's a … half-pass? Phil thinks they're called, there's another one, and it's all at the trot, but this horse is truly moving in a way that's different to the other horse, Blu Hors Matine, this horse is moving with perfect collection, without the freedom and dance, but still no less beautiful.

The music is almost ominous, like something you'd hear in a fantasy epic movie, and Phil watches as the horse slows down to a walk, tail flowing behind it beautifully, not flicking in time like Blue Hors Matine's had.

The music picks up again, with hushed beats and the soft sound of strings now, and there's a series of half-passes, Phil thinks, at a canter, and then he thinks he spots a flying change, but he can't be sure. He doesn't know, he's just guessing on what he knows from what Dan's told him.

He comments and Dan smiles. “You're a quick learner,” Dan tells him. “You're learning all the words.”

“Those are flying changes, right?” Phil asks, as the horse starts in on a series of every other stride, hopping in that strange, beautiful way. Dan nods. The music picks up into a strong thrumming, drums heavy, and he watches as the horse surges forward at the canter, covering ground, looking like a war horse charging into battle.

“This is incredible,” Phil whispers. “I can see how you fell in love with it. I could fall in love with it.”

Dan's smile is so tiny, so sharp, but his eyes warm up, shining still so bright, and he nods. “It hurts to watch,” he admits. “It's been so long. I miss it and I hate it because it reminds me of Jasper.”

Phil reaches over and takes Dan's hand without even thinking about it, squeezing it in time to the music, watching this beautiful horse cantering forward, moving with such regality that he can't even understand how a horse can move this way.

“This is so beautiful,” he whispers. “It makes me want to learn it.”

Dan says very quietly, “I could always teach you the basics. Maybe. Once you take a few more classes.” Phil watches as the horse comes to a stop in the centre of the arena, a perfect stop so suddenly.

“Yeah. If … if it wouldn't hurt too much. I'd want that.” Phil agrees.

“There's more,” Dan says. “You haven't seen them, you probably won't see them, but there's more, there's the courbette and the capriole, the levade.” He pulls his hand away from Phil, does quick searches for them and shows Phil.

“The levade is when the horse rears up on its hind legs and holds it, watch,” and Phil watches as a beautiful white horse does exactly that. It's a short clip of a video, only ten seconds long, but he still can't believe a horse has the strength to do that, to rear up and not move, just for a few seconds even.

“Then there's the courbette – it's also one of the hardest moves, if not the hardest in my opinion, watch.” The video is again, less than ten seconds long, but Phil watches as another beautiful white horse rears up, and then hops on its hind legs, and his jaw drops. “By the way, these are Lippizaners, they're really common for dressage, they're almost synonymous with it, in fact.”

“What's the capriole?” Phil asks.

The video Dan pulls up is shaky and there's no audio, the quality isn't the best, but Phil watches as a horse trots around, then breaks into a canter, and then gathers itself, leaps up in the air and kicks out behind itself.

“It's also known as the leap of the goat,” Dan says. “You rarely see it in modern dressage, this is more classical dressage.”

But there's a fondness in his voice. “Jasper could do the capriole. I was starting to teach him the courbette – he could rear up and hop forward once. I was hoping to get him to get to four hops if I was lucky.”

“Would you ever consider training Cap for dressage?” Phil asks Dan.

Dan hesitates. “He has so much potential. He really shouldn't suffer and have it go to waste and I could. I have the experience. It's just – every time I think of dressage, I get reminded of Jasper and what happened.”

Phil's still astonished that there's a world of horseback riding that exists like he's just seen. “I think you've made me fall in love with dressage, Dan Howell,” he announces, and the look on Dan's face is so strange.

He looks happy and sad at the same time. “I think that any conversation about dressage is left for maybe another day. I think I've talked about a part of my life that I haven't talked about in such a long time and I need a break from it.”

Phil nods. “So, what did you have in mind?”

Dan glances at the couch. “Find some cooking show like I said I liked to watch, maybe kiss a bit? I was enjoying the kissing. It'll distract me from the thoughts swirling around in my head.”

“I can do distracting,” Phil agrees. He wants to kiss Dan almost as much as he wants to keep on watching videos of dressage that Dan might show him, and so as Dan guides him to the couch, he waits until Dan's found something on television and then wraps an arm around Dan.

“Cooking show's on,” Phil comments. “So how long did you want to actually watch the show before moving on to other topics?”

Dan smirks. “Not very long at all,” he informs Phil, turns to kiss him again. That's how they pass the rest of the evening, several long hours of necking like teenagers, and Phil's hands roaming over Dan's back, pulling Dan into his lap, rubbing against him, until finally Dan breaks away and informs Phil, after a woeful glance at the clock, that he has an early morning and needs to let Phil go.

But he continues to kiss Phil as they make their way to the door, and Dan's mouth is red and full as he pulls back breathlessly. “I'll see you for your lesson in a few days,” Dan says with a smile. “We can make plans for another date then.”

Phil nods breathlessly, already eager to see Dan again when he hasn't even left. He drives home that night with his head filled with thoughts about Dan, about the heat of Dan's body under him, and he falls asleep easily that night, thinking of Dan's body next to him.

 


End file.
